If your eyes were not the
color of lightning, of a day full
of loving hope, this world of
faces, work, play, politics
If you were not the chief grace
of my little years, amber weeks
golden months, clogged with
moments of clasping anticipation
I would have gone mad long ago –
If, my dearest, you had not come
into my life like sand, trees, rain
everything is so alive that is to
live with you, eat with you, move with you
if our arms, legs, noses did not touch
each night in our beloved sleep
your life and my life would not
be so good, so happy, and now
I can see everything that lives
and loves in you, so easily, held-in
as the water that shatters the
restless rock; the breeze that caresses
the most ancient fires, you were there
and we drop into the future in
blue salt, falling in sea-circles of
another world, of permanent tenderness.
Photo Courtesy: http://www.deviantart.com/art/War-of-roses-408847420
Wuji Seshat 