Compass

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As my waking hours by the water wane

Your words call to my soul and my blood

Both which tear in runnels to sea

Blending inexorably in saline bliss

As smouldering skies fall dark

I bite my lip and taste your blood

I cast my eyes upon the sea and smell

Your sweet scent in seaweed rafts

Your mirage sweetly haunts the tidal pools

More than sweet water which I crave

Hunger gnaws like loneliness on my isle

Pangs for the companion soul that alighted me here

Alas

If you do not search for me, I will not send a flare

If you dare not burn under a hot sun for me, I will have grown cold

If you steer casually among the islets of my bay, disinterest will find me in my cave

I spurn the extraneous map and compass, too

But if you save me with the sea sparkling in your eyes

I will become your refuge, encircling your waist with my arms

Your mind will be rapt with mine and we will find our way

As one of one blood, a religion of life and fire.

Compass - The Courage of Intimacy by Keith Ainsworth                                                                                                                                                                         21