In the quiet chamber of this,
my muted heart,
and the echo-less corridors of my soul,
I still see the ghostly
outlines of a desire
that once burned hot
with a flame of passion bold,
but now extinguished,
leaving these cold ashes of contemplation
in place of the raw fire of want.

I remember desire
and how it hummed like a
harp’s golden string,
bringing together the fragments
of my being,
and unifying heart and mind.

In my spring garden,
where desire’s blossoms
once flourished,
a winter’s silence has descended,
smothering spring’s elation,
and the iridescent hues have dulled,
on the cloudy day of change.

I stand stripped in front of
the open universe,
finding the truth of my existence:
absence,
unfamiliar terrain,
unadorned,
but longing still.

28/5/2023