Yorke

My Lost Beautiful

Your face,
that of an angel.
Your giving soul,
of beauty.


My life,
in storm,
lost,
adrift,
then,
my heart anchored,
in paradise.

I should never have been so lucky,
waves of dread had swamped me,
but you, a gift of beautiful,
a gift of rescue,
of buoyancy.

Our speech is golden,
words rich with raw honesty,
a prelude to firestorms and hurricanes.
A fragile beginning,
delicate sunbeams,
shining through our broken glass hearts.
we focus,
we ignite,
a merging,
never before experienced by my withered soul,
a euphoria,
only accomplished when minds and flesh unite in absolute love,
and time is lost now,
worldly existence is all but a blur of amnesia,
you are everything now,
just everything,
the hand, the glove,
the land I love,
Just everything.

My home found.

Yet, what else, what more to discover?

I possess infinite regret for leaving your harbour.
Other land held no such bounty.
Sweet fruit from bitter branches, on hollow trees.

Oh how I dream of you now,

but I am a shipwreck,
my vessel is broken.
My heart beats with burning memory,
the rising tide does not extinguish.

If I could only remember how to sail,

if only i could forget.