Lost

Perhaps I was

cardamom

in your coffee,

scent of cinnamon

after too long;

spice of life.

Yet for you

I traversed

the Silk Roads,

entered tribal lands,

became lost.

Sacred songs

encircled me,

of wildness

and love,

holy longing.

In this desert,

arid and mysterious,

your lips

are like

water.

Are you an oasis

or mirage?

I cannot tell.

Still, I drink deeply

of you,

subsisting on

memories;

your lingering reflection

in this shimmery well

of dreams.