A weird ecstasy fills me up when visions of you emerge inside my fantasies
and I then fail to distinguish reality from fantasy
Your skin more transparent and soft than it might ever be under all real circumstances
Your voice sweeter than a nightingale, like summer wind caressing my soul
Your eyes more caring than I could ever imagine
Your shape and poise lovely
Your smile precious
If this is a fantasy, what does reality look like?
I may be dreaming endlessly with these visions of you
and if this is not ecstasy then I do not what it is.
And if this is a fantasy, oh! Let reality be a fantasy –
and fantasy be reality –
and do not let me be able to distinguish between them forever.