The nest

Close

It’s good to feel you are close to me in the night, love, invisible in your sleep, intently nocturnal, while I untangle my worries as if they were twisted nets.
Withdrawn, your heart sails through dream, but your body, relinquished so, breathes seeking me without seeing me perfecting my dream like a plant that seeds itself in the dark.
Rising, you will be that other, alive in the dawn, but from the frontiers lost in the night, from the presence and the absence where we meet ourselves.
Something remains, drawing us into the light of life as if the sign of the shadows had sealed its secret creatures with flame.

I like for you to be still

I like for you to be still

It is as though you are absent

And you hear me from far away

And my voice does not touch you

It seems as though your eyes had flown away

And it seems that kiss had sealed your mouth

As all things are filled with my soul

You emerge from the things

Filled with my soul

You are like my soul

A butterfly of dream

And you are like the word: Melancholy

I like for you to be still

And you seem far away

It sounds as though you are lamenting

A butterfly cooing like a dove

And you hear me from far away

And my voice does not rich you

Let me come to be still in your silence

And let me talk to you with your silence

That is bright as a lamp

Simple as a ring

You are like the night with its stillness and constellations

Your silence is that of a star

As remote and candid

I will bring you...

...happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic backet of kisses.
I want to do with you what the spring does with the cherry trees.

The wait is long. My dream of you does not end.

Song of myself

Failing to fetch me at first keep encouraged;

Missing me one place, search another;

I stop somewhere, wainting for you.