"In the Quite fire of you"

When dusk reclines upon the world’s soft edge,
I trace your name across the airless dark—
Not with my lips, but with a vow unsaid,
A whisper burning brighter than a spark.

Thou art no fleeting dream, no passing flame,
But breath and blood and soul entwined with mine,
As moonlight drinks the hush of stars by name,
So do I drink your gaze, your touch, your time.

Yet still I speak in mortal, trembling tongue:
My love, you are my morning and my ache—
The peace I seek, the song I’ve always sung,
The truth I speak though all the heavens break.

So stay—within this ever-living now,
Where passion kneels and time forgets to bow.