Free Verse # 427 (the only home I know)

My poem
only gives sound
when a wind blows through,
and the sound it gives
is always a whiff
burning with her name.


You are not here
and I do not know your name
but it does not matter,
this love is still my captain,
it is the sea itself
and the ship carrying me,
it is this road itself
and it is the journey,
it is the softly burning fire
and the only home I know.


This world is a tavern,
your fragrance its wine;
this world is a sky,
your light its crowning star.


I long to know her heart;
I long to open her
to the eternity of the sky.


In a single poem
a thousand nights
of longing burn
aching for a touch
from your lips –
you, my tormentor,
you, my muse.


The poet’s words
bring me back to myself,
and always
inside the words
the light of her face.


What if the poem
is an astrolabe
attempting to measure
what cannot be measured —
the beauty of her face?


the distance between us,
its length a poem
lasting all night.


A girl I’ve never known
has her name igniting
the fire in my soul

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