are you real or just a piece
of my imagination's lease?
drifting through my thoughts among
the other fancies seem so young
for wearied by the weight of air,
the insubstantial drifting there
your image in reality is more
than worlds of flesh and stone and war
or oceans with their swells of foam
capitulating toward their sandy home
receding ever, drawing nigh
doomed to crash there once and die
were they real, or like your eyes
caught up in that place of sighs
that bridge to stars and skies and plains
this beating of my heart remains
til air give way, and then i know
completeness floods my thoughts, they show
that words will cease, to take their place
will be realities of grace