You came into my life
    like a wing of fire,
    possessing and possessed
    by something not seen.

    When you first spoke
    my books turned to clay,
    and my throat closed
    around a lost sonnet.

    Your eyes burned over me,
    leaving scars of rapture,
    my spirit became a field
    swept clean by flame.

    Can you think how it was
    that morning I woke first,
    and found you,
    an unbound mystery
    by my side.

    The air here now holds only emptiness,
    a little dust stirring.
    I think there will be wind tonight,
    and owls will hoot
    to distress my solitary sleep.

Emily Dickinson's axiom
Emily Dickinson's Axiom...