A question of love: A poem

Are you like the horizon

that seems so near, believed

but can never be reached?

Are you a golden yellow star

that shines, but whose light, by far

will never reflect on my skin, not at any hour?

Are you the sky, always visible

but never solidly mine able?

Are you the wind, that I feel

but can never catch with any deal?

But you are not the waterfront

that I can feel between my feet, slightly sunk!

Are you the sun

that stretches his thumb

to calm my tears

and my fears?

Or Artemis’ moon

to hunt me down too soon

in my sleepy doom?

Where does love flow?

In which slipstream between the galaxies does it go?

I ask the Universe

before I traverse

another age, another day

or in futility, cease to pray

Is the orb beholden

only coloured golden

where love is brave

but devoid of mastery, is but a slave?