A lilting melody on a moonless night and I think of her.
She was a lustrous reality, I merely perception.
A wilting bloom crumbles in my palm and I pine for her.
She was endless oasis, I but a wandering thirst.
A guilting belief befalls my brambled heart, and I can’t forget her.
She was the fleeting answer, I but a fervent prayer
Falling on deaf ears, for what to ask a God
who draped the golden notes of nightingales in pitch,
who shaped the cruel roars of thunder into glimmer,
Calling creation to viciously spurn paths untrod?
No sibylline utterance nor augury could pursue
my love, a shining pearl found far in abyssal depths,
back to midnight’s daughter, to that endless blue
where first I had grasped it with fighting, dying breaths.
Hark, O lovesick seeker of the self-same tranquil joy:
Sing in the sacred dead of night; all your doubt destroy.
Don’t let flames fail to embers, a stone grind to a grain.
Like ink touched to water should your soul unfurl.
Ascend with the lark and relive it’s sainted refrain:
Don’t let the glimmer die, remember she’s your girl 🙂
Where the Wind Whisks Me Away... 
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