Heavylight

stars stamp holes
in the large night;
as it ever-grows

the final curtain is on fire,
pinholes of heavylight
that even the rain
cannot quiet,

they shape the
tides of a soul
lost in infinite distances
to be a vague whisper
in a large room,

sighs in such nights;
the far away shouts
of a heart that teases
its sleepless mind;

comprehension comes
as difficult
as the day;

I love you.

From the collection: "The Story of Living Things" >>

Read more of my poems >>