A Letter to YOU

I have a choice of writing you a letter,
Or writing a poem.
I have decided to do both.

After all, what is a poem,
But a letter in a bottle floated out to sea.
A vague hope that someone, somewhere,
Between laughter and sleep,
Will pause and pick it up and read.

Of my longings, hopes, silence, despairs,
Dreams, deaths, waiting, lovings.
Sifting through the words,
Blowing husks and dust away,
They'll see a silkworm spinning,
Strings around its soul.

Maybe my love wishes to be a silkworm,
Painfully oozing the finest threads,
That one day on a singing loom will make,
A flowing sheet, blue as morning
Gold as the heart of sunflower,
Green as the juices of grass.
When it clings to your skin,
Remember my touch.

My love is an aftermath of a dark dream,
The first toddy from a palm,
Like an athlete running into blankness,
Shuddering and gasping,
A traveler into the dark night,
No stars to guide his way,
Only the certitude of his own senses.

To love is to die
Let the wind scatter me, where it will,
Let the rain beat down, dissolve my bones.
Vanish me, vanish me, vanish me....
Vanish all of me, all that is me, all that is me....