developed in milky ways

I’m sinking.
At that night the grass
is embracing me velvety.
And it seems to me unreal
that I’m an island sprung
in milky ways.
Yes.
That night I’m spilling
with the tide.
And the joys of directions
into the worlds are fusing
in a kernel.
I’m breathing uniformly and deeply
under the arch of your arm
and a cradle.