Thinking of You

I think of you
and somewhere in my soul
a poem lifts its wings
and fans the holy fire inside;
I think of you
and somewhere a key turns
unlocking the door
and making my heart rush
with the taste of freedom;
I think of you
and thought itself
breaks from within
and twirls around itself
like a broken compass
no longer knowing
which way is which;
I think of you
and the sound of laughter
flutters over the field,
with a hand of light
caresses the shafts of wheat
and the more distant hills,
and, further on, the great openness
of the ocean and sky;
I think of you
only to discover bit by bit
and over many years
that, in truth, it is you
who is thinking me,
growing me out of you
like vegetation grows
or like waters flow
from the womb of the earth;
I think of you
and all thought burns out,
yet thinking becomes beautiful
under the gaze of you.

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