You who still blur my eyes and burn my skin
when flowing through the room. You who hurtle
me toward sunrise’s ceaseless song, past thin
shields of memory’s caution and subtle
whispers of hope: thank you for healing smile,
eyes deeper than ancient constellations,
focusing with penetrating care while
I seem bound to Earth, your revolutions
through our universe turning blackest void
to inspiring light. I know you don’t know
you do this, perhaps wish you could avoid
such powerful gifts which cause me to bow.
Though you may not see why, surely you sense
psyche’s raw energy in our essence.
Roger Armbrust
May 30, 2015
