You’re a mirage, my love.

I can’t tell you and the sky apart.

Is this some trick of the light? The eyes, mind, or heart?

Or are you a mural, my love? A work of ART.

A stepping stone, my love? My end and my start.

An architect, a comet, a sky full of stars?

An enticing, enduring,  enigma, my love?

What are you my love, besides my love?

You’re amazing, and alien, my all, my love.