I
want for the fragrance of you.
for
where you touch me deeply,
before
the tree is a seed to be,
before
the self is confined to secretly justify,
before,
during and after the mind has become
the
apparent parade marshall
to
almost everything you do.
I
am on the scent of the inner you.
I
would not have let you task
or
service your life in front of me.
At
least not unless those actions
evidently
evolved you before my eyes.
I
want your rage candor,
to
be of a vibration frankness,
as secrets
of the wind
that
dialogue with your breath.
take
me to where you are empty-fullness.
as
love is given to me freely from there,
even
before truth existed as the
powerful wings
of an eagle doing
the work of clarity.
there are a
thousand times in your life
I anonymously
come up to you
and looked deeply
into your eyes
and with that, unceremoniously
touch you,
to remind you, to
rejoice within yourself,
to re-enkindle
sense of being,
to reflect upon
your richness of soul fire
in the wilderness
of a new moon night.
and be grateful
for the warmth forthcoming,
be appreciative
of your clean burn,
realize a
connectivity,
without need of
proof or linger.
we are a momentary
oddity in time.
there is a oneness
always inferred.
we are a realmness
to be savored . . .
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