A waterfall of words
cascades from your fountain pen
and though my thoughts can’t stop
the endless flow of diaphanous strength
that nourishes a soul starved for something more,
or catch the slippery concepts that gush forth,
pouring from your genius, a healing
balm soothes the burning place
inside my cavernous heart.

Parched and pleading
with a world that does not hear,
I find solace in these drops of liquid comfort
finer than the finest wine. And in the natural arc
which appears to capture all I’ve ever dreamed of
in an array of reflected light, I meet the eternal soul
of the life-giving poet whose faithful practice
has saved my life and watered
what’s left to live in me.