Blow westwind in my hair
And far above the space we stood
Carve out half-curved sacred scents
These evenings kiss on the shoulder
They soar on borrowed wings
And deep inside a forgotten shrine
Ignite an oil lamp of the self
These evenings dangle on my ears,
As red glass-bound threads; on kites
flown across skies of being missed
Bending, kneeling, holding your feet
These evenings seep into my blood,
Burning your Venus light, dear stranger
And with the fire that brought stars to life
Destroy all grief and need.
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