The Looking

I looked for you everywhere-
How many deserts have spoken your name
In their silence?

-The moon's breast is filled
With the same white longing
Where her milk spills
Into the silver clouds
Of diamond streams-

How long have the old rocks known your secret
And how long did they suffer?

You are preaching your sermons
To the mysterious ears
Of alley clowns and mountains-

Your ghost is a flickering shadow
Just come over the hill,
On the verge of speaking
Its true name
As I suddenly turn
To face my reflection
Vanishing
In empty air-