Variation on a Theme: Psyche and Eros

The lamp is lit--
A glowing paleness, incandescent fire
tamed to obedience by the hand
of its bearer. Love,
I gasp in the swirl of my own
swooning, swale
to steeple, spire,
sky to sky--

you stir.
Breath held, I behold
your sleeping figure, angles and edges
sculpted into soft lines, marking the ends
that flow into more: hard lines, slanting, certain.
Hence limned, you glow brighter
than this lamp.

Your eyes slowly open
and I wait for your wings to flap and bear you away
once more. Instead, you pull me in
and we turn into the lock that we had always been,
that no despair or distance can break,
the unified field
where soul and heart meet.