The words are somewhere
Lost.
Here, there I seek them
So that my thoughts may lay bare
To ripen in the sun.
And then be sent to my confessor
As a profusion of paradoxes
To bewitch us both as we prepare
To take the midnight express
To dreams of improbabilities.
Be it just that I must thrust
My febrile mind into your uncovered thought
And trust the messenger who brought
Memories of yearnings that were concealed
For years by doubts, fears and tears
While learnings were unlearned.