Everything is waiting

awaits your arrival,
the flowers trembling
perfume themselves
each dawn,
the green leaves burn
as though a hidden fire
was lit in their veins,
the wind intoxicated
combs the land
like a lover’s fingers
run his beloved’s hair
in starry rivers,
the birds
have forgotten their songs
and are practicing your name,
casting it into the doorways
of heaven and earth,
even dawn itself
in his deep silence
utters your breath like a prayer
awakening all to its fevered motions,
and the sun and moon and stars
whose bond was born
with time itself
now bow before
the oncoming echo
of your footstep.
Everything, everything is waiting,
and the poems feeling your scent
are doing the unthinkable,
revealing themselves
down to their sacred core,
saying what cannot be said,
and life and death
since eternity dancing
now halt and gaze
at the light
that is about to shed
the peel and skin
off existence itself.
Everything, everything is waiting.

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