Portrait by Nasser Ovissi
When in silence, comes
she whose heartbeat scatters stars
for his ghosts to follow
flicker out lost loves
fall away,
this susurrus
to humble ears, hear not promises
made of fairy dust.
One is kept away from you,
one comes too near,
one is lost in buds to bloom,
this one has taken perch to swoon.
Sound and silence await the other,
a mockingbird’s desire,
when singing another’s voice
hears its own,
to what song does he aspire?
Hers, ’tis hers he thinks he seeks
in every love he mimics,
sounds sought in another’s heart
echo endlessly within us.
My, you’re up late.
My, you’re up late. Breathtaking as always.
Makes me think back to Warren Zevon, “…I’ll sleep when I’m dead…”