The scent of dirt, unearthed and wet.
There’s little comfort in its dampness on a night like this:
You were causal when inheriting fate’s condition,
inhabited blue and serene,
spoke of gardenias and roses,
with traces of clarity,
shrouded in sacraments and beings.
Let me understand why you went away.
There was such a warm write in your eyes,
an inward ascending light, many pages left to be read.
It’s immense when sensing you near,
I wake up knowing my night’s been spent
in a sensitive pulsation of arms
open as the sea, like my love of summer’s light.
We were seagulls flying
point to point, toward ceilings,
memories and landscapes,
time and asteroids.
bridging ourselves within a sanctuary.
Now I’m left with sorrow’s shadow,
when tomorrow’s edge arrives,
swift as a swallow swoops in
to recapture my soul,
so I’m not devoid.
Twice — I pray for light to reach me.