My heart pains for a rib unknown,
Whose seed, in the fertile soil of my sleep, was sown.
And like the glow of stars to the sky at night,
It’s essence to my waking soul has formed a light:
More beautifully clothed than the lilies of the field,
And lasting past the embrace of a rainbow’s shield
That lingers inside the shadows of clouds in the air,
Like a song of a dove cooing in my ear,
As I seek the tracks of her sound,
Hoping one day her nest will be found.
But if tomorrow I shall no more arise,
Before her form is birthed by my call;
Like the fate of leaves at the season of Fall,
Bury my passion in the bosom of her paradise.