Love Poetry

After many years of travel.
     searching for myself,
I do believe I've found me,
     deep in someone else.

For, you have made me realize
     it's not myself I seek,
but the beauty in a morning,
     like the softness when you speak;

the lovely in an evening,
     like the color in your eyes;
the passion in our meetings,
     like the pleasure in your sighs;

the heaven of creating,
     at times when We are One;
and the bliss of relaxation,
     as we sleep beneath the Sun.

To plant a flower on the lips
     of someone so divine,
brings on the Music of the Spheres,
     and causes Stars to shine.
It brings the Moon into the Sky;
     it flames the Sun above;
it puts the Planets in their paths
     and gives them all a shove.

To pick a flower from the lips
     of one who is so sweet,
impels the Earth upon its course;
    stands Humans on their feet.
It frees the Birds into the Sky;
     the Fish into the Sea;
it brings the Light into the World,
     and breathes the Life in Me.

Awake, my eyes are yawning, and gone now is the night.
The Sun will soon be dawning with its radiating light.
So comes another morning; becoming is the day;
but day is further warning that the night is on it's way.

The seconds seem to hunger, for every minute lust;
the hours grow no younger, but turn our thoughts to dust.
And dust grows even older, scattered in the wind;
carried where it's colder than death has ever been.

And so, my love, please tell me: do you think it's really worth
the loneliness that we will see, while living on the Earth,
to keep our bodies parted while I dearly yearn for you
to lie with me beneath the Sun and taste the morning dew.

My happiness is being, and my joy is being, shared;
but blindness is not seeing that life grows when we have cared.
The love that I can offer you, the World gives to me.
The World will not suffer it; and neither, love, should we.

Please think of me as sunshine, which you—the Earth—receive
in warming rays of light—so fine, you breathe me through your leaves.
I fall upon you fully while you bathe beneath my heat.
I do enjoy you, truly; how you pleasure when we meet.

My love, it is not yearning for we two to be as one
that keeps the World turning round, and brings upon the Sun.

You pull me.
I'm standing here trying to make it, but
you pull me.

You pull me.
I see you,  and I lose myself as, with your eyes,
you pull me.

You pull me.
My thoughts you draw from deep within me, as
you pull me.

Yes, you pull me,
until I am no longer Me without You, and so
I'll pull you, too.

My love was made manifest.
It settled on the Earth,
and there was planted,
like a seed,
to which your warmth gave birth.
You are the Mother of my love;
the reason of my bliss.
Oh, how my heart was
quick to see,
when first our eyes did kiss.

If I could gather all the stars
and hold them in my hand,
the colors I would then possess
would not be half as grand
as those which I have seen when I
look deep into your eyes,
or come across when I have kissed
your lips, I realize.

If I could ponder all the truths
men sought since time began,
they would not teach me more than if
I were to touch your hand.
For, truth, to one whom you have touched,
appears as simple lies;
and nothing could be truer than
your touch, I realize.

If I were given lasting life,
as only God could do,
I'd shun it all and turn away,
if I could live with you.
For, even God has never known
the immeasurable size
of the love that is within
your heart, I realize.

At first I thought it was your eyes.
they shine and spark
with such surprize,
they easily dispel the dark.

But then, again, what of your lips?
They taste as sweet
as honeyed hips,
and put to shame the sugar beet.

And there're your breasts; could I forget?
like two full moons
that never set,
but, rather, rise as honeymoons.

Yet, now I see
it couldn't be
any one, or all, of these.
It was your Heart
that, from the start,
brought me to my poetic knees.

On Winter nights, when all is quiet and still,
and Nature, sleeping in the arms of God,
has thrown a sheet of snow on every hill
and caused the world around to blink and nod,
my love and I will nestle in our house
and wait for the approach of Savior Spring
to set to flight the pheasant and the grouse,
and call upon the mockingbird to sing.
My love will help me through the Winter nights,
and I will fell and fetch the wood by day.
We two will sit beside the firelight,
and watch the salamanders as they play.

Now Spring has come and Nature is reborn.
The Vernal Sun, in Pisces, greets the skies.
New buds reflect the freshness of the morn
and dewdrops break the light before our eyes.
But dewdrops, buds, or mornings cannot stay,
nor could I be more ready to receive
each tender loving phrase which you will say.
And all you say, I'm ready to believe.
And should you say, "The Sun no longer shines",
or that "This Spring the buds will not appear",
or that, "The stars have rearranged the Signs",
I'm ready to believe all that I hear.

Hot summer settles, now, on arid land.
The year matures; the grasses turn to gold.
The Sun's hot orb puts forth it's burning hand
and parches dry the Earth, which now looks old.
But you look ever younger through the days,
the Dogdays, and the Summer's too brief nights.
The living Sunlight of your skin displays
the art of God, and on to what great heights
God's art has brought that Sunlight which you are.
And when I see your Sunlight as the rule,
you make the Sun as distant as a star,
and make the Summer's heat seem really cool.

As Autumn enters with its yearly yeild,
the fruit I reap has hair of Autumn red.
Her breasts are of the color of the field
which, grown in golden grasses, is our bed.
We lie between the Heaven and the Earth
and, making love, the winds caress our Soul.
As we unite, we feel our second birth
within our Spirit's golden aureole.
Oh Nature, mistress of the World's Lord;
Mother of our mothers and our wives,
through love you gave us what we most adored,
and brought life's greatest gift into our lives.