The fragrance lingering in my thoughts after you have transfigured
to a phantom
is like a book laying open with
light too dim to read the words.
I have seen you standing in a dream with moonlight dancing on your skin, but your face, it always changes form like lightning flashes in a storm.

I chase the wind and weep when I falter.
That is the penance for a crime long past...

One day I will see your eyes like a mirror reflecting the beauty I have seen in my dreams.
Perhaps you will see,
in the wandering me,
the same sights that play through the loneliness coursing in the night...