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Lend to the mystique

with words spoken

      to one another

   in slow breaths

I can barely

            hear

           speech

                     patterned

    after orators

          of Ancient Greece

       but

I fail to find

           interest

   in such myth

      such folklore

     what you were

            was different

    from what you are

             just nature

        in its natural flow

                but

 the alchemists

they do tend

        to miss the point

      of the fire

              inside

I can’t explain it

               in any terms

       but I feel its warmth

you blow

        on

the fire slowly

             rising

         welling to

              a boiling point

I do not understand

let alone possess

            ability to translate

I’d like to say

     you’re on your own

            but I can’t

    since we’re linked

in this mystery

            together

not much else can do

                      about it

lend to the mystique

              as eyes meet

              as hands meet

              as lips meet

                  together entwined

       in this nocturnal realm

               of wanderlust

an undeniable possibility

            potential always there