Your eyes are a moan drenched and lost in time,
You blink the dawn from dusk and back again
As though the world were yours and I were thine
And none but the poets intoned, “Amen!”

Amen to the harvest we ne’er shall reap!
Amen to the tempest we left behind,
The floods and flames, the burning Earth, the sweep
Of history for which this poet pines!

Beauty in the snow, beauty in the sand!
Mountains crumble, lava flows, beaches melt:
I am a ship, and you a sunlit land
Before whose reign divine I briefly knelt.

Rising, I see that everything has changed
Yet no Lover from Love can be estranged.

(Written Wednesday, June 14, 2017, at 8:50 PM)