***
I am so very lost and lost and lost in you
borne up and cast down upon the rocks,
with each breath, with every doubt and hunger
with each pomegranate seed planted in my heart
perhaps it cannot be quantified, a mystery at best
forcing a name upon it might steal its power
there can be no science to this,
no measuring the butterfly-wing flutters
I must be content with the quickening
within my hands and beneath my ribs
waxing and waning like the moon
but always present in the tides of my body
keeping me warm in the starving hours of night
borne up and cast down upon the rocks,
with each breath, with every doubt and hunger
with each pomegranate seed planted in my heart
perhaps it cannot be quantified, a mystery at best
forcing a name upon it might steal its power
there can be no science to this,
no measuring the butterfly-wing flutters
I must be content with the quickening
within my hands and beneath my ribs
waxing and waning like the moon
but always present in the tides of my body
keeping me warm in the starving hours of night
