Wild

Wild

Waiting, 
is this poem,
a garden in the wilderness, 
like She is the Wild within my heart.
As Layla is to Majnun,
within my madness is Her home
here, 
our reunion is where we part.
 
Oh, how wilderness encircles wild,
like this whirling man 
circles chanting child,
while 
Rumi circles 
axial love
I circle Her
in orbits, beguiled 
in concentric currents, 
scintillations radiant
and all the while,
 
waiting, wading
through unseen tear ponds,
under floating veils, suspended,
water falls,
pied flower petals, 
raining upon, 
Her lovely face never cedes,
this fragrance swells
in spells, I seek 
Her depths, and with depth
the deluge springs 
from colored artesian wells
and other hidden 
wild things.