you are a masterpiece —
an art in all its form and glory
from Mozart’s classics
to Shakespearean poetry

a foreign language
yet to be known and understood
gracefully spoken
like the song of a million stars
adoring, revering

a wild orchid blossoming under
cold summer nights
more dearly than spring flowers
unfolding their beauty

(yours does not age
from years of past
to future days)

how pitiful it is to those
who have not seen,
much to those whose hearts are blind
those who cannot behold
such treasure
so precious, so divine

every tomorrow is a dream
every yesterday, a gift

here I lie in wait
calmly, quietly
for what would my life be
if I gain no patience
or courage to perceive
the vehemence you give

faith stood still
at last,
from wishful thinking
to peaceful falling
I reckon on the impossible