Heat

Even when you are far away,
body or mind distant as history;
even when I lie in bed
alone with the haunting sound

of owls in the night wafting in the wind.
Even when you are silent. Even then.
Day. Night. When I am alone
and when, busy with the madness

of work and life,
you are with me,
your heat, the fire of your love
alive like a hunger,

relentless.
passionate,
eternal.

About this poem. 

Read it as a lover. Read it as God. Both are true.

Tom