Handicapped By Language

Under open clouds and flickering sun

I crave to pen lines and lines,

Erase, write again, fill spaces within

With sounds unheard, arcane

I pilfer words, perhaps in vain?

Speak I must, but how must I

Describe Hiraeath?

A longing for home in the lilt of our tongue,

that which first drew me to you?

Or Cafune?

That mellow stardust you sprinkled on my hair;

arousing tears, who knew, who knew!

Insouciant was I, when winter passed

and blood coursed afresh in every vein

Fingers met, duende reborn;

And Cingulomania?

Just me and you, in one world, all of the world.

Oh bring me words, do bring me more

Give me a language in which I can write!

Of all my feeble attempts to say just this

Love made beauty impossible to miss

Till then, I was blind, just blind.