Unrequited Pacific Love

Desire for love
to return to some safe place.
That is an illusion of security
in this labor
of reclaiming space

physical, internal, imaginative
or otherwise
create bricks from evidence
deposited in archives,
books, words and songs,
foods and dance
lands and memories,

such an arduous journey!

Yet no rest for the weary
nomad
whose genetics is to be
a wanderer,
lessons of ancestors
travelers across
floating worlds
that sunk and rose
in the fluid universe
of homelands.

Where then
can I stop to drink?
Take a rest?
In the temporal space of embraces
and loving making
that eventually ends
in the morning.
And the permanence of absence
is the only source of sanity
in this materialistic realm
that reduces magic
to physicality.

Oh, can I love
this ephemeral mystery?

Can I risk in
unfixity?

Will it ever beget a body
of my dreams
that is hooked from the sea,
manifested in prayers and dreams
for the days of peace?

Or perhaps again
I fall into
the prison of illusion?

Whoa is me...
Living in the mind
that seeks
bricks to build
rather than
courage to erode
and live underneath
fragile sandcastles,
units of infinite homes
that connects resting places
of ancestors who rode
canoes, boats, villages a-moving
to the currents of the time.
evolving, surviving
never left behind,

Oh, Self!

Let me love this truth
Let me love,
these roots.