perhaps I should tell you such a thing as
the many imaginings from which I
can no longer seem to depart, for which
I may have soon to admit that I can't
reach for you, I can't hold you in my arms.
it is in this reverie that I was
left to knowing my heart's secret longing.
what is there, in this distance between us,
that is in itself a hullabaloo,
a disquietude rapping at my soul,
a feeling so remote yet so intense
it could not have been so very far away?
love, to a seeker, isn't in the stars,
but in a thousand places in the heart.