The Beloved I Have Not Seen

The unameable

is wrenching my poor heart apart

trying hard to capture the mystery

that came before beauty stunned all

with her supreme nakedness

in the magic garden of feelings.

Grace exploding, petals on a rose

a fragrance whose secret

has escaped momentarily

to all the inebriates in the tavern.

I am writing love letters and prose

to the Beloved I’ve not seen.

A master of mine once said:

“It is so secret—two cannot walk abreast there. Not even one.

I want to see that secret, that mystery, face-to-face. I want to kiss him,

to kiss her. I am in love with someone but the beloved I have not seen,

because I have not seen a beauty like this beauty

anywhere on the face of this planet.”

You who read this are rowing your leaky boat

in an ocean of wine,

singing praises to the night.

Or maybe you are spinning wildly through infinity

Love orbiting itself,

playing coy, playing hide and seek

in the beautiful multitude of galaxies named “Laneakea”

Hawaiian for immeasurable heaven

a place I have visited and lost

and now pine for from the very depth of my being.

I am so alone, Beloved.

so alone, standing on the shores of your infinity.