You, Beloved

You
who lives inside of me
though I keep looking for you
in the outer world;
you
whose fire immolates my heart
without completely killing it,
threading it, instead,
thin and empty
like the rose of the sky;
you
who loved me
before I had a name,
before my parents bore me;
you
who will subsume my being
as I surrender my breath and die;
you, beloved,
crushing me with longing
and making sure
that I won’t survive
unless I become a thread
in the book of love.

Free Verse # 424 (Who is the lover? Who the beloved?)

She is waiting for him
at the crossroads of a place
where poems converge
with something deep and infinite

~

All night long
holding his poem
against her ear,
an ocean brimming
with the waves
of his love.

~

I opened up to her
trusting her with the fall
of my heartbeats
into her open palms,
of my hands
weary and aching
to course the river of infinity
flowing along her skin.

~

All fire begins
with a single thought,
the thought of her touch.

~

My poem
a ship of fire roving
her infinite waves

~

Who is the lover?
Who the beloved?
In this fragrance
we have dissolved;
no one remains but love!

~

Her poem, overtime,
hollowed my heart out
like rocks being carved
by moving water;
my soul now inhabits
an empty space,
and wherever it moves
her presence
is the gravity vector
rooting it in place.