Folded a label while reading your poems,
looked aside about all that was letting loose
a dragon, some devotion, cooled down by the time
I reached to the ocean.
There I wanted to be back, to the paper crest
not thinking, why winds shook and went
through me, here scavenging the coast,
in complete dark, harnessing soul
not to yell, stones to move
sand propel.
Slain or pushed no one would find anything
left or be part of water, so hue blue then green
Nothing but a white scroll, titling your name
the divine, who can by tongue without whine
all restlessness tame.
The Jackal snaps there in form of a stone
taking the moon as his pill, and Venus shines
waving away all lies of the next day.
There are no accidents as you now pray
dear young finder, trust the stone
not to stay.
Thourn Whaul
25/07/06
"I Am Not Yours"
by Sara Teasdale
I am not yours, not lost in you,
Not lost, although I long to be
Lost as a candle lit at noon,
Lost as a snowflake in the sea.
You love me, and I find you still
A spirit beautiful and bright,
Yet I am I, who long to be
Lost as a light is lost in light.
Oh plunge me deep in love -- put out
My senses, leave me deaf and blind,
Swept by the tempest of your love,
A taper in a rushing wind.