Nonexistent Empire Poem by Norman F. Santos

The yuletide air gyrates
Permitting a dream to wander
Like lanterns in late dawns
Singed the dews to evaporate
And ignited the walls of my chambers
That cradles all these vessels
Forking, intersecting, subsisting
To carry a golden heart
That beseech for a hearth
In somebody else’s palms
Faltering in every collision
And heaping with every abrasion.
When I find you slewing away
I will ferry you in a gutter
That leads to an empire
That houses all golden hearts.
If only I know where to find
The door to the secret crowds
But until then, I will look for you
And may be when we collide
We can build our own empire instead