Stars, that rise High upon the spirited plain, Drain my eyes into petals, Drain my spirit into endeavor, Drain my body from pleasure. You grew two stones in either hand Where one I called my heart, The other I called this world. I was skipped, The other still spun Upon its own oceans. I remained absent In the arms I called my home. I remain clothed In the bare winter, that stayed. Where did I fall If not against the twilight Skies, that surround my shaking form? Of petals that dance towards the moon, Of a spirit that yearns to be filled, Of a body that wishes for worthy convulsions. You washed up, there Upon the ocean's desertion Of you, in the desert. I see you, from above, As the fallen dove I still do love.