DESCENT

Night is a shower of your hair, my love,
The moon on your forehead dangles above.
My heart is the sea without a single wave
Prone in the deeps as a reverent slave.

The shining grass is muslin to your jeweled feet,
And throbs in the softness of the stars’ beat.
Its shades grow finer in the downpour of light
As glowing pearls strung by the secret night.

As I grow into the space that wraps about you,
Waiting in silence, without ado,
I am stretched into a world of the widest view,
A background of presence, a constant retinue.

And now, the night grows golden as you unveil,
Stars disappear and the moon turns pale.