"where night is....a stream of stars or a star-lit oak"

i seem to move with
leaves, smooth as a prayer
mat with its oranges and
golds,
tangled like the rhythms
of a blues band
in the decadence of the heat,
and yet i fade, a stream
of stars, a rain drop shivering
to the floor,
the ghosts of the stars are
all of the night sky,
the blacks of the sky
hypnotic as the dark
tide of my mind,
my love for you
is like threads from this
bare prayer-mat, worn
thin and yet caught in
the tatters, i love like
a worn out bear, i love
until i can't think of
anything except you,
attracted like a papery
moth to the moon.