i am touching you,
tis not the wind...
tis not the rain,
but the tears i cried.
tis not a dream, nor shadow,
but thought revealed.
the arms you rest in,
are both dark and still.
we are not distant,
there are no miles between eyes.
the smell of your hurt,
caused the earth to shudder.
i am not god nor angel,
not the cure or the end....
i am the gentle old hand
brushing the hair from your eyes....
i am the lovemaker,
you, the cross, and the dance.
you breathe fire,
i burn and burn, and burn!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem