Reversed , some days /
daunting dawn, endless dusk groaned
soul in hand / small move where the roots are eager to grow

Hunger: looking for meaning
/ peeling away what’s torturing the
skin of longing

What’s sufficient when the comb is missing its teeth?

To steer clear from what’s only there to fill the lonewolf’s temporary time

On anotherness, these words are devoted /
lit each day & night / for the beloved to know wanting is still inflamed

Windflower: who hides her depth when in love / to utter none is to be at the safe side

but the unshowing is exposing itself / the soul is too generous with mysticism attached to its light-gown / all untimid, the form of intimacy amidst the language of the heart

Where is the next step to cast the net
of seeing the beholder of both eyes / upon the lotus on the water, who will waltz into the opening of allowing the meeting of bodies to take place?

All these branches of a yearning tree / resembled thunder in its loudest moments / how the attraction is too immense to even be defined

Time collapses again between us / ahead of & behind / two crossings overlapping each other / like white crows passing by the dream: disregard the past & what’s left of it — burn it

How to wish for the modesty of kindness / for the enlightenment to this mystery / who holds the limbs back from reaching each other’s thalassic shore? / The restlessness of knowing is begging to be unmasked / that one who loves so dearly & deeply has stayed so quietly afar for the fear stained by the faced past / & thus, the throat will say: do not suffocate the heart anymore as this part is breathing for the day we’re no longer apart / as remarks amidst the vermillion sky is asking to see & meet the beloved if her body is permitting to be glazed upon with such rays —

© D C de Oliveira
November 6 2022
Friday 10.05pm
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