The exile is over, but what was forbidden
Is not exactly celebrated now.
It would have to be understood first, and neither
The Heckle nor the Jekyll are capable of that.
It's a special kind of joy, to be both happy and free,
The feelings in alignment with the pipes
And the past lives in abeyance finally
Asking nothing more of me just to be
Which we are now allowed, albeit in secret
For too much visibility would make it less sacred,
That is, we wouldn't know what we could do
With this new, unannounced power
We strangely have, in each other's arms,
To melt completely, into the psyches
We have glimpsed in our dreams,
Long before they were proscribed.
I guess it's okay no one understands
As long as I'm allowed, now at least, here
The age that left fluffy clouds with the snow
On the top of the local mountain,
The one for the postcard of who we are.
It could be anywhere on earth, a destination
Now that the beaches of Venus
Let in people like us.
