When you visit me
please come sweetly,
not like the evil spirits
that kill the soul and body
of your broken lovers.
Come like the West wind
the one that touched me this morning.
Make it your calligraphy, songs
down the fragrant paper
flying like gulls across the waves.
Did the written wind start
in your garden? Was it a single
brush stroke that began everything?
Explain the power of longing. Please
explain, what then
when beauty fails.