He trails.

He turns.

He falls behind.

But always discerns.

Fortunately our tastes for this
sort of life coincide,
except in the matter of sunrise,
which he likes to see up and dressed,
and I from my bed.

The terra is only one
planted in clay soil
one planet of earth!

The sneaked out nightingale
here, is never gone.
Unleashes soprano  
at the same ancient roses'
still a perfumed home!

It's the starry upside's
dark down deep hole.
Sunset melting shadow
down the half light moon!
Eyes on in toto cool
after the day painter sun
is done colouring in full.

Guess, up from the mountain
of sunrise tomorrow who beams back
to this unfathomed serene clay-mole?
Again the sun followed by the moon!

Days pass quickly,
But I burn lowly..

Time passes swiftly,
But I melt slowly..

Days end with nights,
But I,
            never end with night...
   And will,
              remain as light;

       From night to light...
       From dark to hope....
       From failure to success...
      
I love to enlighten;
                like a candle..
I love to brighten;
                each shadow..

I love to burn;
       as I burn to melt...
I love to melt;
       as I melt to brighten...
I love to brighten,
       as I brighten to enlighten...
I love to enlighten,
        as I belong to candle..
            and am full of wax;
                 which is made to litten...

I am ready
to ring your rib

around my wrist
in triumph—

the faintest of relics    
enliven me. My lips

still layered
as in the night you lost them.

I hope to hammer  
your heart

& stuff its soil
in the sutures

of your skull;
I want to call that

the shadow to
kintsugi;

I want our memories never
to seep; to set

them up for decryption.
Unloving is a study—

consider an archaeologist’s
tentative hands

demystifying an artifact
once treasured for its secret

& leaving no spots
behind.