the notion of…

Inconceivable, by and large, in every motion,

continuously, I cried my heart out onto you as

if somewhere in the midst of a great ocean; like

sprinkled by waves with water every few seconds anew,

your face so precious that it did not ever seem to

have altered, just as my wish to be again with you.

Leaving you and leaving me like leaves

swayed so softly as by soothingly a breeze after

so calmly a storm crushed our longings and made us

quietly die in a mess on our own. We,

now, like the sands of time blown by shyly with

our hearts conscientiously bumping never again, but

rather separated and all alone; love seems

unpredictable like flying pebbles, sticks and stones.

The body, I am forever at a loss of, at last, not

attached to any of my scopes, made me write

a poem in favor of shiningly wet moss

to contrast the crushing of those everlasting dreams and hopes

that gave as cold as be to me a grasp in my

defying of the odds thereof.

Winds, the waters, and the earth; you, ever

intrigued me more than all of them combined, left my

heart scorched forever, bound up with yours afire,

while knowingly you were the only gusts and gravel and

drops that ultimately put me out of desires. And still, not

having figured them of ever having ceased to be my

burning props, a theatrical depiction of my heart’s loss

is what this whole time I have been thinking of…

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