Eyes to See

A heaving breath, born of chest; a tranquil gust that stirs my lust. No hill above the treasure-hove, no love is found, no voice makes sound. Such learnings beat my feeble earnings; such golden virtue like paper tissue. Frail and fragrant, I fail a vagrant, frail my mind where only heart can find. Peace, eternal kept, my sorrows crept; peace in loneliness, a nest of harsh regress. So far away, separate by a day, So far - yet will I see your dark-lit eye?