I live

in just outside the clock
along the periphery of your dreams
an invisible line in picture frames
as a criss-cross in your hand
in a story never to be told
in just an intake of breath
in fading ink of yellow parchment paper
in a fleeting knowledge of your soul
in the realms of the Universe
where I am with God
looking down upon you
in a dream
that vanishes like mist with the dawn
in a sudden lightening moment of truth
in the knowing smile with which I left you
once again to your mundane existence
I Live.