Thoughts Which Ramble into Novas

My pen sits at my desk, a dog
Patiently waiting for his master to give the command
And I sit here
Trying vainly to fill my mind with thoughts of you to place on the paper
But I find that I am a sieve,
The words falling through my fingers,
And the ink
Running scared
From the page.

I have never written
A love poem
Before.
I have written the “sad” poem.
The “hiding” poem.
The “empty” poem.
The “get the hell
Away
From me” poem.
But the love poem evades me,
Showing coyly only in incoherent
Bits of words,
Never clearly seen behind their veils.

My thoughts on paper become measures in a tune I cannot
Learn
To carry;
The hopeless dream of a wandering
Star-gazer
Living up in the sky looking down at the
People of Earth,
Knowing just what he wants but never
How to reach it,
When the stars he grasps
Slip down
To the seas.

And I feel that I am that
Lonely star-gazer,
Whose thoughts ramble into galaxies,
Whose eyes see novas when they close;
But cannot grasp a single perfect star
Sliding past
The fraying edges of his consciousness,
As he falls to sleep which looks just the same as
Dreaming.
And the words
To describe You
and I
Allude me in those half-second sleepless fantasies
Which are their own reality.

You are the
Nova
Behind my eyelids;
Whose light is my ever-there companion in this
Sea of fractal ink,
And still I can’t explain,
As my pen spills over to abstract shapes that leave me drowning,
Intoxicated,
In a thousand pages of this to story
Yet to
Unfurl,
Flashing through my mind like a speeding comet,
White-hot and frozen in time.
And still
I cannot capture you on this page.
Though I can see the way you look
Lying next to me on the sheets
Of your bed,
I can’t write your image onto
This sheet.

Perhaps my pen is not worthy
To write the words-- I so long to right
The fault that keeps me from describing to you
Just why I hope our roads
Will not diverge,
Because I am a wanderer on this Earth and you, my companion and guide.
I confess I cannot see past the leaves of the trees
With their sweet summer secrets,
And I will be lost without you by my side,
Fearing the whispers of the brooks’ will sound
More like screams
If you are gone, because they instead of you will echo my own thoughts back to me,
And they are untempered and wild.

You are so much a part of me,
Perhaps my heart’s red blood on this page
Would speak more fully than my wavering mind,
That to think to live absent of that echo
Which resides in my thoughts
Long after we have parted ways,
Whispering “Until the next time,”
Would be to think on a starless sky--so innately wrong--
A black void devoid of dreams.

I have come to believe that never
Will I find the words to fathom
“Love.”
My thoughts are dancing shadows I can’t trace back
To a single flame,
Because you burn a thousand different ways, leaving me branded
Forever with your gaze.

And I swear to you
That so true a description of
My feelings
For you
Would char this page the same,
And love
Would be finally written
In the ashes.