all that we are

that, I might be

the ground which you stand upon
bare to your soul kiss to your feet

loam to embrace the seed of your beauty
as falls, that so may tears you weep

and of that field
brilliant, as the stars in ever swirling constellation tilled the sky

reaped change, no thing does ever last
nor truly ever die

come to pass, the day, your lips divine the latent in my breast
last seen, tailed ragged rage and sorrow – as blood let to the night

that, you might be