Whispers of True Wealth
A poem
Your hand in mine,
and moonlight
in the inky silence,
and nothing more.
At home, together,
between
earth
and silvered sky,
it’s enough
just to breathe.
Your face,
scattered light
into soft clear focus,
my eyes are flowing
streams
of cool water.
I’ve tumbled,
laughing,
fallen
for an endless moment,
and landed
closer
than my own imagined self.
Holy fools,
draped in stars,
danced
by midnight strings,
the song-lines
of our animal bodies
curled together.
Here,
with the night
around us,
whispers
of true wealth:
the dawn’s coming light,
quickening birdsong,
the sound of soft rain
on leaves;
an untroubled heart,
open and loving;
time
to be still
and to listen;
the giving of the gifts
with which we are laden
and which
un-given
become our burden;
the quiet presence of the essential
arising,
from the touch of your hand.
