(June 14 – 1:20 a.m.)
So many stirrings in my mind
as I dream of your soft-spoken tone,
so many feelings, undefined,
now that love is God alone.
I hide within the written line
a longing laced with quiet ache,
for tears no longer cross this shrine—
my soul drifts on, a gentle wake.
Within the beauty of the night,
beneath the rain's enchanted grace,
time is no waste, no fading light,
while your voice still haunts this place.
How not to hold you from afar
when in stillness I yearn so deep?
A warm embrace, pure as a star,
echoing love I barely keep.
How lovely longing feels today
though you're not resting in my arms,
no heartbeat drums its wild ballet,
no soul is torn by silent harms.
—
Jesús Hernando Camacho Mosquera
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