the fullness of experience

My gaze is on Saussure and the object of linguistics
but a mellow stream of vaporized Kenya caresses my cheeks
and I reawaken in the memory of your warm head on my chest:
You can take a shower here if you want, you can stay if you'd like.
The bedsheets are a labyrinth and our bodies are entangled
in the darkness soon to be illuminated by the rising reality;
our fingers glide across the cobblestoned walls of a dream
as we roam free and laugh in this disguised shadowland.
At the cusp of my memory bursting I catch a glimpse
of a hesitant surrender to this slightest possibility
and whatever there is to find in this chasmic world,
it must build across and deliver the fullness of experience.