Divining the path through

Rocks, thorns,

The bottomless fall after

The precipice, no time

For flowers, bees, fragrance

Defies and derides

My goal.

The mist through which you

Must appear, like a sheer curtain

Lifts, and falls, lifts again,

My eyes strain for the sight

That moment

Of bliss, of

Contact.

Days pass without nights,

Eons come and go,

My eyes do not tire, looking

Looking,

For you, for the sight

Of you.

My breath ceases, every nerve

Every fibre,Every sinew

Straining, for that first

Sight of you, for that moment of

Bliss.

Your face, that of

A stranger, unknown,

Unseen, my mind sees

A fair face, magical tresses,

Mesmeric eyes, a smile,

Enchantment.

My breath resumes, my eyes

Tire, waiting for

That first sight, that contact,

My eyes open, it is

Dark, night, black as your tresses

That moment

Of Bliss

Of the vision,

That is lost.