Storm moon

When the laughter of my spirit merges with the cosmos

and my kisses paint the blue sea of your soul.

When my strange verses pollinate you,

and my science becomes your light.

When the hope of your milk comes to my breasts.

When wisdom reaches me

(If it does)

Even if it is on tiptoe.

Then,

and only then,

I will not die,

even if I do.