Pensieve

I dreamt of you

one autumn night

the stars etched as on stone

never blinking but

an eye

And paradise startled

me,

with its soft feet

sinking, through the grass,

in despair

Wander,

wander through

dusty roads,

The steep sun unkind

never near, ever—

Maybe you’ll find me

thinking

On a rock,

pensive and strong.

I know no other

except you

In the streams of beauty that surround me

When I breathe,

and the clock striking new time—

A minute passed,

I thought of you

Now,

what next?

Strongly discordant

the nemesis arrives

incoherent, unknown—

Must I think of you

as a paean of beauty

since I carve you in

these lines?

Decipher me like an April breeze,

So non-existent, that I can weep

for a flutter of an eyelash, or a heart

Steeped in dusk

in vain,

in acres of lacquer

those grief driven eyes—transient with woe:

how shall I cast myself about you?