The probity of the wind
Has lost its variant thoughts
To existence, lost to the presages
Of my heart, my only thoughts of you.
More precise than a decision like
Imagination turned idea to become vision,
I slake my thirst of you towards its light
A mosaic of the same variants you gave to me
As if our drink of each other was not enough.
You came to me like this cipher to unfold
Even the wind had lost its way along your
Eyes, your lips your breath of chaos and choice
That I may overcome my derision of believing
I could ever be enough for you, as if my heart
Were inlaid to the same ivories and abraxas like
An angel consecrated, lost to your sacred love.
It is I now unfolding before you
Defied by my secluded heart, as the pain
Of not knowing whether you will ever be there
Escapes the grasp of honesty time can never hold.
© K. James Ribble