Free Verse # 221 (writing you; writing me — the ineffable source)

I feel your hand in mine,
Then the poem completes itself
As in me you become
The ineffable silence,
The very breath of life.


In this love for you
What of me remained?
Nothing but a poem
Unfolding in your palms,
Words weaved with light.


Wrought by starlight
your poem fell
like a pair of eyelids
over my aching eyes,
blinding me to all
save for your light.


I could forget your face if I entrust it to a poem; so I rather forget the poem, leave it unwritten, and within me keep your face, forevermore, unto my last breath, alive and growing, shining like a fountain of endless grace.


The eyes have a language words cannot touch.


Clouds ~ these eternal wanderers roaming through the desert sky.


Strewn amid my poems
rosemary and basil leaves
grown in the garden of her hair


Lavender seeds and jasmine flowers,
basil leaves and rosemary needles,
stars and dewdrops,
wine and candle-flames –
all amid the folds of her dark hair.


2 thoughts on “Free Verse # 221 (writing you; writing me — the ineffable source)

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s