Flame,
there is not enough of you to piece together a fantasy,
my eyes set away for too long, and
all I caught was a glimpse,
the rest is left to my imagination,
and for now
I, the water of creation,
will fertilize you until you’re brought to life.
And as months pass,
I note that time has done you well,
you’ve matured into a silhouette, so
when my thoughts are absent,
you may glide across.
My head starts spinning
with new impressions,
you confide your ideas on what our journey
could be, and
I dote on them,
our little secret,
but I wonder of a date when those devoting words will truly
exist between us.
I am blind
to your colors, but
sound keeps telling me to run,
heat sparks your ember,
my pitter patters to your thunder,
I am hesitant, but certain,
and I escape past suitors
to the safe place we’ve created.
Exhaustion is entangling me,
searching for you is unyielding…
But sound finally whispers the sweet words that
you’ve been welded into the mountains,
then sight returns, and
I look for relief.
Cavities form, shift, and sculpt until
you’re a mere man.
A simple exhibit,
it’s nice to put a face to a thought,
you tell me stories of how
you melted cold heavens in
rich desires of a visit.
But the thought that
we will part once again,
always sticks,
and when I utter the question-
the wind embraces me,
and departure arrives.
I suppose the sky suits you best after all.