Conjuring The Green Kiss

On my right side

I curl into the fetal position,
know a delicate merge will soon
bless the curtain of night
and I will disappear,
to reappear, a murmur
in some parallel place.

This, the stars promised

when they left me here
damp and bottomless,
a silver sheen deep inside;
a duplicate copy
suitable for travel,
remembrance, recollection.

And I go - come, willingly

conjure the green kiss
of bliss to greet me.
Marvel the bloom of orange
on lustrous shores,
respect the tempo of terror
for what I cannot see.

Is it age or knowledge

that makes me question
what was dream?
In which world
did diamonds sparkle,
did tarnish dull the jewels?
Am I the dream of another me?