Like Adam longed for Eve,
so do I long for thee.

That something, untouchable, continues to compete
with every beauty nature sets before me.
This shapeless longing
is so clearly formed,
the idea so recognizable,
yet irrefutably undefined.
Your form I can conceive,
though cannot begin to guess.
No moments or memories have yet to unfold,
while constantly flooding my mind with scenes still untold.

Some word—like tenderness—
yet nothing at all like any word
has formed itself a home in me,
waiting impatiently to be released.
For birds and buffalo could not compare,
nor lions or the most graceful deer compete
with the longing stirred in me.
What secrets did Adam know
when, searching the cosmos and finding no mate,
he appealed to his Maker
to form his Eve, making her just so?

Like Adam longed for Eve,
so do I long for thee.