Everyone seems to critique your image,
not only words you graph
or moves you lead,
but the feel of your character.
You are not just a name-
not another polluted breath-
not simply a handsome fiasco-
you are the essence of living.
Let me tell you who I think you are:
a distant lullaby I refer to as home,
natural beauty unmasking light,
melodies composed by your heartbeat,
a song still searching for harmony,
a deep gust of wind who contemplates
the art of being loved and holding on,
a whisper before stars are sleeping.
You are what refreshes and hums
my body to rest,
night and day satisfied
with knowing, wishing
a glimpse of you was theirs.
Yet from afar, they understand,
I have already found you.
