The tragedy of dawn

Erase the tragedy of dawn
with your delicate breathing.
Lift your arms
to let me enter
the palace of expiring maidens,
the home of clamoring awareness.
Undo the clasp that holds
the hyacinth perfume in a small box.
Let mountains arise in your imagining
and traverse them upon awakening,
as if they had belonged to you forever,
a gift from the emperor of time.
Those who arrange time,
have arranged it to display
all of your possible futures.
I am in all of them.