The Lover's Chronicles (Part Four)
your hair falls in layers as if
a gown, or a veil, behind which
all mystery abides... your eyes
moan, a deep and gutteral spiritual
longing, the history of mankind
abiding there...
your lips, silent, motionless...
yet those eyes the painter's brush!
nightfall itself bows in gratitude.
beginning and end, again and again,
as if the earth breathed somewhere
deep in the softness.
i see the first fire, the shadows on
the walls of the cave. and i hear
drumbeats in the distance... feel
the howling of the wolf on the back
of my neck... and death is there, so
it must be, for there to be life. i
wait in the timeless, lost in your
glance!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Added by Poetry Lover
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