I
love you—without want—but need; for this thing, embodied in volts, even a
resonance.
It pictures perfectly, a grain
beneath souls, to charge a vessel. I float to reappear; a fragment of man,
stationed in functions.
The weather stirs love, a silent gloom,
activated by force.
I’m
lost for words, to petition a daughter, to generate light; but more to
mothers—dying through breathing, to wrestle a torn addiction.
I see you now, a garnet wine—the
affections of sorrow; but love is grand, a favored soul, infusing a walking
heart.
The tides are fey, a fleet of rain,
to perish through rebirth; for this is love, a patient mind, hoping for sight.
Its life for scars, the webs of
mercy, attached to rituals. It turns for left, to condition right, to hear for
names. I love it more, the years to
churn, to fathom addiction. It’s step
to step, to trek through gardens, a tableau affair.
I see you there, reaching for
coffee, afraid that no one hears. I
stream the deep, to laminate self—to call for Mother.
There’s lights for grays, with tears
to crawl, basking in gentle gestures; for this is life, the trails of saints,
with need to venture.
I hear you more, the girth of faith,
to realize a subtle love; where born a star, to glisten within, the texture of forgiveness.
