Electric illumination

I used to follow power lines home,

and chase lightning down to the dock.

I’ve been electrocuted so many times,

I have become immune to the shock.

Now I hunt for protons with silver spoons

and copper toothpicks. It's an electrifying addiction

I have found to be shockingly therapeutic.

...

The love I yearn for is quite ancient.

Yet relatively young, and remarkably patient.

It hibernates between the

damaged pixels of old photographs.

Concealing its location within the lines

of tragically romantic paragraphs.

Watermarks act as the cipher.

Submerging answers which can

only be revealed by summoning fire.

So I'll light the torches, and allow

climatic illumination to guide my

drifting heart back to the sandy shore.

Where the love I yearn for will literarily

be awaiting my soul with open arms of war.