The Olive Tree That Refused Our Names

We carved our names into the olive bark.
By morning, the tree had erased them.

Perhaps love does not belong to permanence.
Perhaps it belongs to wind
that refuses to archive us.

The sea watched quietly.
It has seen empires drown
for lesser reasons.

I understood then—
even eternity
has no obligation to remember lovers.

Eros Who Forgot the Direction of His Arrow

Eros did not pierce my heart.
He misplaced his arrow in the air between us.

Now love hovers,
undecided,
like a god reconsidering prophecy.

At night I speak to the constellations,
but they answer with geometry.

Love is not fire.
It is distance
learning to breathe.

These poems approach love not only as emotion, but as a metaphysical and linguistic experience—an inner landscape where memory, longing, silence, and transcendence converge. In resonance with the depth of Greek poetic heritage, I explore love as both mythic and human, intimate yet universal.