Yes, Love, I was born with the first waxing moon.
Bald, without a thought for a tea’s afternoon;
—we embraced, dancing in every crook and cranny of my mind,
only to find myself as no one, and finding no place there.
Oh failing heart, why did you forgo me?
To enter space where I would thirst?
Then, drowned me in a sea of deserts bleached sand.
Perhaps, in the essence of moonlight and sunlight
—I will find You, where their lights both meet, and see
what I have never lost nor have ever found.