Cosas Que Pasan

To the rhythm of your days,
to the flow of your time, candle that you master.
To the sway you set, capricious, love,
to your warmth, I draw near.
Meadow flower: I need you.
I soaked up your essence
and now I am tied to you,
and the sulfurous claim
is the desire I feel for you.
Desire for your nights while you sleep,
desire for your heartbeat and your breath,
and under the shelter of your kisses
enter a path that erases behind me.
If your blessed presence
is the offering before the altar,
the water of your flow
is the animal longing.
To this overflowing craving,
to this moss on the rock where I dwell.
In the honeycomb of your caves I can hide and sprout,
and in your hidden curves I can inhabit and love,
from your dark ankle
to the sound of the braid of your long hair.