All you need do is appear.
I am in a constant state of looking for you.
I pay close attention to every new face that I see, as it might be yours.
I listen to voices in a crowd, even when I cannot see the one talking, as this might be the voice of my beloved, of you.
As I round every corner, I am always ready.
I am the patient lone keeper of a lighthouse on the most remote island, who strains his eyes each day and scans the horizon, I am alone, and I am looking, and I am waiting
I lower my telescope just long enough to rub my eyes.
The Love light within my soul burns like the sun through my Fresnel lens.
My beacon is visible far and wide.
All but you are drawn to it.
I raise my closed fist up to my mouth, and emit a slight cough into it.
I raise the collar on my coat to thwart the sudden salt and mist filled wind.
I lick my dry, chapped lips.
I slowly inhale,
I slowly exhale.
I unconsciously shift my feet.
I raise the telescope to my fatigued left eye
There are a few moments of sunlight remaining in this day,
as the sun races to sleep behind the western horizon.
As I do each day, I peer through the layers of glass
until the very last magnified rays of light have gone.
I slowly retract my telescope and place it back in its case
and carry it, and myself, inside.
I tend to my light one last time before retiring,
in case you travel at night.
I put on my bedclothes and lie in bed,
my hands behind my head, my eyes studying the plaster ceiling.
I slowly inhale.
I slowly exhale.
I have done all that I could, as I do each day to find you and for you.
The sounds of the wind, the waves against rocks, and the constant turning of the gears above me have become my lullaby.
I sleep and dream.
I dream that your beautiful face is resting on my chest as you sleep
I dream that we spend each day emptying our hearts.
I dream that you stroke my face and kiss me, your eyes closed.
I dream of our bodies as one as we make love.
I dream of your love and all that it will mean to me.
I wake.
The first rays of the new sun climb over the sill of my
east facing window and reach my eyelids.
I wake, but lie there, eyes closed, and say my simple daily prayer.
I rise, stretch, and put on my day clothes.
I tend to my light one last time before going outside,
In case you travel by day.
I pick up the case; put it under my arm,
And carry it, and myself, outside.
I take my telescope out of its case and slowly extract it
I raise it to my fatigued right eye.
All you need do is appear…….
