Free Verse # 413 (the diary of my travels)

My life — letters written to an imaginary lover, a lover who never comes, who is always here.

~

On the poem’s wings I rise to the clarity of her eyes.

~

My poems are the diary of my travels through the regions of her soul — a collection of leaves, flowers, teas, honeys,

~

Nowhere to go to,
no one to find,
this love I want
is in my heart.

~

Dans mon poème
elle s’est venue
chercher son ombre
qui s’est enfuit
dans l’abime des ténèbres

~

The winds of longing
racing in my chest
where the blooming flowers
sigh out your name

~

Your love touches me
and though a dewdrop I feel
the ocean in my heart

~

Her moan rising shapeless
over the sea of dawn,
kissing the sky and soaking
the earth in pebbled dew

~

Starbreath,
the sigh of a candle,
I am travelling inside of you,
into your night,
your silence,
the expanse of that world
spinning behind your eyes.

~

Everywhere I go
I hear you,
a music
older than time
strumming the waves
of my soul.

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