what giving creature is this
who came singing down,
who minds this soul and
craves the greenery of love?
that i am affixed to her
spot in the ethos of
unbridled compassion
and driven wants;
that i am awash in
her wake of relevant
fables and broad,
gleaming fantasies;
that i am enshrouded
by her enthusiasms
for joy and for relief
from the afflictions of truth;
that i am stayed
by her delirious
visions of harmony
with all of life.
give me a reason
not to weep in the
zephyr of her passing
through my days.
give me a sense of why
i should not pour every
gifted coin of what she
has of love
into a silken purse
and distribute its contents
to all the mournful
angels in my life,
that they secure from
it a new place in
the cosmos of goodness
and grace, mirth and humanity.
that is what my giving
creature calls down
to me from a place
i once knew.
i meditate on her face.
i sing on her fingers.
i pray on her toes.
i dance on her eyes.
she embraces me and in her grasp
and at once i feel the firmament
of something close to all the good
things i've enjoyed in my years.
