by Luis G. Dato
This baffled strangeness when chance makes us meet,
This puzzled diffidence as eye on eye,
I search your soul’s unfathomed mystery,
These words inadequate that strive and beat,
Deep from the heart like dove’s wings poised for flight,
This dumbness and vacuity whereby
I see you near and yet in fear descry.
A precipice engulfing you from sight —
This has your absence wrought whose silent wand
Oblivion cast o’er days disconsolate,
Till my mind doubts the eyes’ phenomenon,
I come from dreams and darkness, a strange land,
Prey to all fears, with anguish intimate,
And the dull shadows of days passed alone.
