’Ego sum hic.’

Calling to the dawn,
Baying at the moon,
Petitioning the horizon,
Summoning the faithful;

The yearning indefinite,
In pursuit of an enduring affirmative;
An echo searching for its source
In the boundless beyond.

’Ibi tu es, tu es, tu es, tu es...‘

No one ever knows
the rhymings of my poetry
blob of words combined
And so do I.
In between these rigid lines
Are invisible tears and smiles
Passing through windows
Of soul through the eyes
Daring to touch every strands
Til the inner glands
What do I know, who am I?
I am just a typist who takes part
of my own indefinite poet heart.

lost in your eyes, your smile,
          your laugh

over and over, it all seems to fall apart
          but in a blink of an eye it gets
          stitched back
          over and over it happens
          just like that

riches in actions and gestures
          you show

every little thing is made more
          precious by you

zenith, the peak, the best, the bold
         but still quite unsure

oh how i wish our future together
         is as definite as the sun sharing
         it's light with the moon

I want to
write words
in hasty brush
strokes,
-messy yet
precise and
in its right
place- smear
and blend two
words into one
to create new
hues

How can I
paint a
poem?

How does
one display
indefinance
with definite
things?