Guest guest Posted February 27, 2002 Report Share Posted February 27, 2002 The golden syrup of this morning sun ladles light upon lovers this day. Every heart is a face upturned, a mouth silently drinking this spring gift. This warm body of delight, this opening in the bloom of God that runs to our arms as a fragrant child to laugh and tweak our nose with playful sunrise. All appearance writes its love poem in itself this day. There are sublime sagas transcribed upon each leaf. Miniature love poems writ upon each pavement and stone. I am the poet and the poem, the pen and the pulse of every hidden word that arrives upon the warm breeze, of my Beloved's kisses. How blessed it is to be your soul, in this twirling kingdom. This dizzy domain of passion and madness. Brick dust and garbage, dog shit and primroses mixed together in dancing motes of praise. The growling of traffic bound and bounding lanes of your quick movements in this being. The soft crunching sounds of your many movements. The rush and delight of your transit in this hurrying world. How like a shy tenderness you clasp to me this myriad faced vision, of the passing through of your souls appearance as mine. It is my privilege to wear your flesh as your flower, in the secret cosmos of our lovers dreams. I am your mailman, your poem, your happening, in this mind space place. Filling manifestation with your love letters and receiving same, as shy or wanton kisses addressed to the One who sends them out, to open the envelope of this winsome and mischievous word, spoken as your missive, in all semblance and sentience. This poetry reads itself, and uncovers your soul in us as only you. love eric Copyright 2002 Eric Ashford. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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