Untitled

Untitled

Brush these eyes
with your portraits -unpainted.
Touch this heart
with your songs- unsung.
Fire this soul
with your lines -unwritten.

Those dark myrrh-clouds
that swirled over
your frozen Adonis-bloom ,
at your wake-
long unremembered,
can never engulf
the virgin attar of your
final sigh-

Wafting past the
flame-fouled icon.

Breathe -
yet breathe your grace,
if only
through this burnt-out husk.