sonnet for a visionary

my love, your genius is hosted in you
like a parasite, a demon, an ancient
ghost haunting your wanting eyes—how
those little windows burn with the immense,
intense intelligence inside! what i’d
give to set foot in that cathedral, to behold
the hoard of treasure being held there
hostage by the fire-breathing monster
whose lair you are—it’s true, love, all i do
enslaved to this blunt, blind, unfeeling craft
is look for ways of understanding you
so one day i may be strong enough to
lay eyes on the unfathomable view
that is your soul & live to tell the tale.