I’ve retired behind clouds; living to light your world
when the smoke of your travails giving witness
to the truth that cannot be found gathers itself
for a moment, eclipsing my gaze in the shape
of a white heart, void of color, even blackness;
for in the senselessness of humanity’s struggles
love must be found by one light, removed
from the source of burning hearts and instead
regaining the purity of celestial bodies, prayed
to for centuries, guided by their presence, linked
by our imagination, named for our Gods; promised
to us for the moment the light parts the curtain
of doubt and shines upon your gaze, smiling; not
at a doll, but a woman; not at an ornament, but
a mystery of misunderstanding, longing and hope
for her heart to be weighed down by the color
of love, no longer able to float amongst the clouds;
removing itself as the prism of my healing touch,
to await the return of a man’s naïve hopes in life,
lost for too long behind the clouds of his pain,
his losses, his betrayal, his cynicism of a pretty
face only interested in perpetuating itself in
the glory of its reflection and the madness
of his pursuit