For what love seeks
To be born
Has yet to be defined
Humanity’s valiant efforts have failed
Our words have abandoned us
Our practices an incoherent jungle mess
Our science a mess of specialisation

For what lies in a glance
Is not discussed
Nor may it be expressed
Whispered and fumbled
Drunken haze
Dissipates like liquor in the sun
Dried up
All that remains
A dead body
Shadow of something that never was

And still you remain
Wondering
Unable to grasp
Incapable to exist
You hope
That once
You might
Capture
The essence
Before it dries...

For the stars that gave birth to me
also bore your eyes and your lips
they gave colour to your kisses
and taste to your breath
substance to your touch
and essence to your gaze.

For these stars we live under
both being, both feeling
both kissing, both needing.

Tis our souls that seek
to find each other
and then something
that which does not
may not
will not
shall not
that which is
among all else
exist.

Journey upon a Stony Road

What is it?
That which saddens the walk.
What is it?
The weight inside the chest.
The inability to breathe.

Collector of stolen breaths
How do you measure worth?
For the non – sensory,
Ontological fruition is impossible.

Yet you persevere
Always asking, always fumbling
Never actually, never…
Flux on the verge of a cloudy dusk.

What is it?
The moment of triumph.
What is it?
Fastening coat, quickening steps,
Upon a stony road.

The sweetness of your demeanour
drops
off
the intellect of your lips
hangs
on
the balance
of a kiss

And then
the disposition
the correctness
of your ways
lies
with me
an idea
never fulfilled

For what is observed
never
beyond
the white
filled with black squiggles...

And here somewhere
I lay
despondent
forgotten
the man of loss
the lost
upon a green grass
a sunny day
I lay

Await
for that
that does not come
nor is invited
beyond what chooses
beyond the will

I see you
I see me
but still
nothing but white and
black squiggles

I dream

Κρυμμένο στην Ιδέα

Πως τα χείλη που δεν φιλήθηκαν ποτέ
να σβήσουν μπορούνε, τη δίψα
αυτή, που δεν κρατήθηκε ποτέ
ανάμεσα στα δάχτυλα;

Εκεί, στο σύννεφο επάνω, του ονείρου
την ομίχλη πως θα νοιώσει
το χάδι που δεν αφέθηκε, ποτέ
στις άκρες των δάχτυλων, εναιώρημα.

Πως νοιώθεις μάτια μου;
Ω! Κάρδια και ψυχή
στη σκιά του ακροβολισμένου εαυτού
τι είναι αυτό που ακόμα ηλεκτρίζει;

Σαν φάντασμα πλανάται από πάνω η σκέψη,
η ανάγκη που σπρώχνει προς τα έξω
αναζητεί, μα στην άκρα των χειλιών παραμένει.
Που έχασες το δάκρυ και ψάχνεις να το βρεις;