Oh, anxious one,

Do you not sense me
in the silent, spacious stillness
listening for your footfalls
toward my beckoning hand?

Is not your heart
pillowed on my bosom
like moonlight nuzzled
on new fallen snow?

My Beloved,

I am desires
you are desiring,
wellspring of your passion,
roar of the lion-child
from your mouth.

I am fire
streaming from your lantern
setting aflame muted candles
within shrouded hearts.