Yes Eros being Eros but for what

There is a distance I search for 

A planet, I try to find

I’m searching for a distance 

Your children are not your children

Rather, a set of jagged claws

A planet where my subjects are bidden

My father-myth

My wayward daughter

There are mire-flowers in our dialect 

A shirt of flax stone 

That grew in the forest 

Pine bread and sap, pressed together 

My glance fell on our duration

See with your hands not just with your eyes

Mind flit towards adoration 

An unreliable frame

An event that rhymes

A looking glass in a holiday glow