The Image
Who is this beloved
who walks toward us
within the shadowy arboretum of soul,
who waters roots with tears,
revives with ardent longings,
until you appear on the periphery
of mind,
to claim our thoughts as your own?
Passion engulfs the blind heart
with endless desires.
A cosmos must explode
into light,
only then do we know
how to make love
to an image,
knowing we are mirrors
reflecting
you
alone.
Copyright © Eric Ashford | Year Posted 2024
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