It was simpler when I had no name for you
no label to hang you on, no mask to hide
your face – only the touch of wind
on my cheek, the kiss
of rain on my hand and you
at the heart of everything.
At the heart of everything
was your voice. The crunch of snow,
the whistling wind, the roar
of thunder on distant hills.
Yours was the song of the brook
and the sussurrus of leaves, and all,
all of it spoke to me.
All, all of it spoke to me
and I knew you were near and knew
you would never leave me. I
was never alone.
I was never alone
when you were nameless, when the world
was your face and every whisper
of wind on my own was your lovesong.
So let me forget your name
O Dancer of Storms
and only know you.