Searching for You

The poems I write to you
escape from my books
and go searching for you;
they become birds in the forests,
clouds sweeping
over the mountains and fields,
they become stars in the nightsky
and whiffs of summer flowers
enamored with the air.

They go searching for you
and find you everywhere,
they blend themselves with nature
to always stay with you
and so fire up my heart
with the knowledge of why
the whirling dervish turns —
he turns because of you, beloved,
who are all around, at all times, everywhere;
everywhere, through you,
the world’s axis turns,
you, the divine contradiction of love.


Free Verse # 431 (a literature of sacred desire)

The moon at dawn,
to look at it I remember
the image of her face,
traveling from age to age
and now coming to wake
in the stillness of my heart.


All that ink
flowing along her curves
in rivers,
and I, the only one
able to read its flow;
but reading
is an act of writing,
and as I read
the words catch fire
and burn into her skin,
a literature of sacred desire
with the flame of poetry.


It’s enough
to touch her with my mind
for the cup
from my heart
to overflow


Dusk settles;
my breath,
like the silent fall of dew
infiltrates her skin,
gathers at her core.

Between us,
an ineffable dance
of shadow and light,
a poetry greater
than this finite world.


From her face
the knowledge of light
came to me,
came to alight like a bird
on the bough of my heart,
inside to make
its burning nest,
weep through my skin
and into the corners of the world
a song of joy and harmony.