he

he

he would, he could, he should
huddle himself in my secret garden
plant his seeds
flowers and life
start to bloom the room
fueling energy from the source
bursting into this sphere
filling the lungs
with capacity
for deep landings, deep encounters.

he would, he could, he should
find a place in me to dwell
his lovely well
seeking water
liquified to purity
running over the skin
like the most simple
of life's softest.

he would, he could, he should
whisper my name into dark hours
of the night
calling
for his life
his passion
in the world
seeing visions
of raw form
in the sweetest movement
of love.