House of Heart

Without end or beginning,

in white hours I wait for you.

Near night I hunger for darkness.

Shadows of lilting swans,

we plunge from cliffs of vertigo

into gold dust of desire.

You are the hoarfrost of winter,

brilliant bursts of Autumn’s fire.

Solitary eagle above the mountains

beneath your wings streams

of infinity carry you to my shore.

Should you fly on to distant provinces

I will follow

become indigenous to that land.

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