Haunted by Dutch dikes,
a poignant image
conjured in the mind of a child,
somehow related
to the origin of my adopted name.
Been holding back for so long,
suppressing desire
suppressing inclination
suppressing action
born in me.
Yet the flow of love within
threatens to break the dam.
Sandbags in my eyes
and exhausted,
the fingers of a man-child hand
plug points of vulnerability
in the dike.
But I only have ten.

And its already past eleven.
My emotional alarm clock
is about to go off.
Its quarter to twelve
and at midnight,
Prince Charming is ready for a crown
and a queen
and a baby.
My stream of consciousness
feeds water falls of wisdom.
Romantic visions,
devoted visions,
paternal visions
gush out of my mind,
only to evaporate,
essence dissipating in waves
through the cracks of my existence.

Desert dwellers dance,
faces painted in various hues,
undulating sensually,
hoping to inspire the heavens
to open up and shower them
with my life giving,
life sustaining
flow of love.
Thirsty and thirsting for a deluge,
yet receiving dew and drizzle,
which somehow temporarily
justifies their hope
of growing an oasis,
something sustainable
something beautiful
something magnificent
from parched roots
buried in sand dunes.
A storm is brewing
and my love
is poised to rain down
on fertile soil.
I shall find true love,
at the end of the rainbow.

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