Morning And Her Coffee

I wanted to call you Lapiz Lazuli
this morning
as you drank your coffee
at the wooden table.

I looked for you.
With that burned aroma and steam rising.

Then there’s your eyes
that the sunlight touches
like an ancient port in Portugal
or a tomb from whence Lazarus hath walked.

I have traveled those aquamarine seas
in my dreams
and over the years of
my love’s maturing for you.

I’ve gone around the Earth
in those frozen, eternal moments
being born and reborn before you.
Amazed, I guess I should say.
Epic like Ulysses’ sojourn.
Unending like his homesickness.

I don’t need the postures of adulthood,
only this that cultivates silence.
The eastern wisemen call it knowing
and the physicists may preface it as God.

You are the ocean of my heart.
The trade routes to my soul
across the ancient stars.

The lapiz lazuli precipiced upon your gaze
is a map to something greater than life.

An impossible summation.

So, I will wait peacefully for you to speak.

It is quieter than death.


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