I rest in your sadness as our earth rests
in dusk, aware of night. I rest in your
joy as ocean rests in dawn, hints of crests
mirroring sky’s great light. I rest in pure
pores of your body lying still in late
afternoon, Liszt’s Dreams of Love pouring through
us, spirit’s phloem. I rest in palette
of your whispers, those brilliant colors you
blend into images of our soft calm.
I rest in your silken arms as a king
wrapped in scarves blessed by some archangel’s palm—
once touching gentle weavings—now stroking
our breasts. I rest in your soul’s divinity
as stars in cosmos caress infinity.
Roger Armbrust
November 22, 2010
