flights of dreams

As eastward  winds
bring fresh made clouds
to grace a timeless face in passing beauty

woven glows become tendrils
silvered dark and shadow.
The eyes feed imaginings
faint shapes and tendencies
to deceive...for yet it is true;  I believe
that Love resides in that
which men have made of you.

We cannot hide our faith in things
that bring the poetry of deeper moments
when will becomes a petal,
the moon its beautiful flower
and memory shreds the age of days.

We bathe in soft light and wanting...
give rise to flights of dreams, and wait
with a patience unknown-
even to self- for something
we simply will not be without.
Like breath or the ceaseless voice of  thought
it is in us, in a place, that makes us.