Love lost, love found:

In the land-swept deserts of my turning mind

Where I have felt the blood-encrusted train

Of thought break through

And shake the stark reality from dreams;

Or throbbing decibels of wording sounds

To purse the lips and curse

The very dirt for being there—

There is a single corner where

The fast encroaching finger of despair

Can never dare.

Within this place my heart can live,

When there is nothing more

That this cold world can give.

No storm can quench the golden light

Of pearly candle-yellow flickering low,

Beside the secret chalice wrought

To be my treasury, and hold

The kiss, the rose, the tear

And yet, I am no fool

To live in memory of passing moments:

For I have found the eternal mystery,

The indestructible urge to change

The hair, the eyes; to raven black, cerulean blue—

And have what I do not know!