I have never seen the face of love
Or held the truth as near as you are.
I have never seen what dares to be seen
Or could bear the sight of my own Misgivings.

Though you knew me before I was awake,
or even sentient.
I could not see what was before my vain eyes
Or could hear the music of you heart
As it pleaded
For the undreamt of understanding...

In which desires are flowering trees,
Laughing, wondering, and crying
In all of their separate enchantments;

Bear the world, I wanted so badly
To be a part of,
Slowly revealed by your sacred advice,
And, for my own well being,
Taken away from me
Like the toy and the terror
That was and will be born again.

Robert J. Richkin
Photograph by Carl W. Huffman