Intermittently I gander upon the vault of heaven

and in uncertainty

ask her if she comprehends me more then I, myself.

"I do not understand,"

I elucidate to her.

Looking beyond the bleak high seas

to try and inquire something more about myself I might have misplaced.

I do not understand the throbbing laceration that consumes my precious humanity.

Who could fathom this foreign species as it enters you,

Replenishing your helpless heart

As you forever reverie of touching lips.

Frowning at my deliberation

I stuff my scrutiny back into a simple heart shaped locket

Tossing the key

Until I find the impotent longing to dig it up again.

"Will I ever understand?"

I ask her once more.

Her eyes were now dense with the discerning fog of sorrow.

She seemed to be apologizing

As I wallowed beneath her vast stretch of glory.

"I'm sorry, my child."

She whispered.

"Your aching is the crumbling of the skeleton that encloses your understanding."