None love with greater passion than I love—
not Shakespeare nor Ovid, nor Solomon
with his sacred song. Those in fear may shove
love aside. I choose open devotion,
arms spread wide, focused for flight to new heights
one cannot reach alone. How does your eye’s
iris take me there, its unfolding light
and color commanding me, causing rise
in my every cell? How does your exact
phrase alter my heartbeat, your smile guide me
to flow to and with you? What is this fact
of one soul sharing two frames if not we
two clothed in night’s silence, our breath assuring
spirit’s blessing—whispers of love enduring?
Roger Armbrust
January 2, 2015
