your fragrance down my neck
streams in beads,
through the thin curtain a birdsong
breaks the silent sky,
gently rippling the dream
that carried me through the night —
Where am I?
In you, lost inside your grace,
a seed of silence
now become the sky.
What am I?
The first utterance on your lips
when creation was yet
a mere figment of your imagination.
Why am I here?
To sing your pain and joy,
your endless glory,
and touching you be
all that I can be
in a life that fades more quickly
than lightening in the sky.
I now wake to make my cup of tea
and prepare my breakfast,
your ocean is moving inside of me,
or is it I stirring inside your ocean?
To the horror of reason
inward and outward lose distinction
and I cannot keep myself together,
cannot maintain my own skin
so I surrender and give in
to the sheer enormity of your presence.
I find myself diluted inside of you
as the hot tea breathes on my face,
as the dry fruits tease my tongue
with the want of your taste.
The Want of Your Taste