To Whom It May Concern

lover! lover! lover! you think human heart is an open page, a requiem to be read at leisure? or you think it a black hole, impenetrable thick darkness to peep through? what is essential to the heart is invisible to the eye— a reason that knows no reason— LOVE one can touch the depth of heart by tracing the missing lyrics by bracing the undying memories you love with all your heart although it gets broken often you write cathartically hoping it’ll get better somewhere down the road like this desperately romantic lover who charts the poetic landscape of lost love in his "to whom it may concern": my love, back in the day when we first met, I said this: in my culture a man is judged by the size of his farm field as by the number of his children by the heads of cattle he owns by the peace he makes with gods, people, Nature and with his personal chi— ayana my father had 10 children (all without Viagra) with two beautiful wives I am the first-born arrogant bastard who chose to be a bard than a farmer and feels younger than the last- born. hard to break soft to please and you said, your love to me is like the rain that always soaks your love to me is like the light that always shines… and I saw goodness in your eyes eternity in our love unsuspecting the fragility of being human in the rain I tilled the land I sowed seeds of our love in the light I tended the farm I reaped with awe the sheaves of its harvest I carried home the stocks thrashed, winnowed, deposited the grain I lived and loved with sure sense of purpose! of late, you grumbled: now that the rain is gone it is drought ever since you don’t plow our grain bank is empty it is a wasteland our land is laid fallow when you left you left without trace and I said: take the grace take the grass and the luck with you but your love when you left it felt a direct insult to my sweet sweats tilling, tilling the land digging, digging the well towing, towing the water in those lonely nights darkness crept in one leg shorter than the other smiling without a face touching without a hand the weather, now, after years, is good all year long: the fig tree you knew weak thin and flaccid has now grown fully thick and hard and tall in the yard the rain rains and soaks the land as water wets the light shines and warms heart as fire burns not too cold, not too hot just as ever! lover! lover! lover! can you see with your nose close to the mirror?