analytics

Monday, April 25, 2011

wine of the mystic

intoxicating
to bathe in your radiant presence

even the memory
or the thought of you
sets me spinning inside

and if anyone is watching,
i have to catch myself.

if not, i just reel in it
revel in it,
like the irresistible gravity of flight
one feels, although only diving. . .

now i know i am only diving,
but on the whole i do not care.
i am busy glorying in it.

the only thing that gives even a moment's pause
is wondering how i appear to others,
in these moments.

they surely think me mad,
foolish, a nuisance,
or a pity.

it is only for their sake i ever attempt to appear quiet or reserved.
on my own time i am singing your name,
even in my silence,
and enraptured. . .
in the heady swoon of love

it sure looks like being drunk,
heedless of everything beyond this moment.

the best i can do
by way of consideration
is to beg your indulgence. . .
because i am not going to change;
this feeling is not going to wane one bit.

though i pity you, who can never know such intoxication,
i am not going to waste one moment of it
trying to explain or justify.

it's a pity you will never taste the fruit of this infinite longing,
which is infinite satisfaction.
. . .
copyright Peter Asher Watts 2011