I’m a writer,
A hermit,
In a desert of words
Hearing your voice
In the wind’s whisper.
The frisson of stars,
The terror of dark,
I endure
For the awakening
Of you in my heart.
You are the Moon veiled,
The star in the rift,
Your hand
Writes notes
In invisible ink.
You’re a fiction—
I made you—
Conjured from air,
And yet I keep seeking
for you everywhere.
© 2019, John J Geddes. All rights reserved