The whisper

And when you get so weary from following the sun,

You rest your shadows by the moon

when daylight comes undone.

The forest whispers to itself the prayer of the wind,

You lean your bones against a tree

and listen to it sing.

Your longing is a freedom-song of flawless violins,

You stroke the chords of yellow gold

that shiver through your skin.

You speak your voice with starling words that murmur in the air,

They linger at my kingdom gates

to lure me out of there.

My guardians suspiciously forbid your entering,  

‘Do let me in to quench my thirst

Yield to my offering.’

I climb the mountain next to yours and settle on its spire,

and as you kindle your own flame

I too ignite a fire.

However far apart we stand on manmade temple stones,

Our flames are twins that burn in love

the whole of human thrones.

And when you get so weary from kindling your flame,

You rest your ashes by the moon

when daylight turns to pain.