Lost in Celebration

30

Lost in the fields of your hair
I remembered the fragrance there, of the Earth
And Peach blossoms of the souls
That I left behind, so lovingly
That I forbid myself to love again –
In the dark, of beautiful and corrupt humanity
There were no bruises like the empty space
Of living alone, for penniless years
I became a master of loving without objects
Of instructing myself how I might survive
On beauty alone, without a face
To reflect it back to me, I was
.
)
The last horizon of wonder
Guilty for not traveling, like you have –
I lost myself in the fields of your hair
Counting the contracts, countries, poems
You encountered, here at the soft lines
Of your cheeks, I looked in awe beyond beauty
For the sound of your voice, the locket of hair
Where I might find the secret to comb everything
That jar of oil, that caress of celebration
That could possibly make me groan at the roots
Look down from the skyline of the cityscape
At how lovely the world could truly be.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s