Not of This Earth

My love for you is not of this earth.

It comes from the place where silence is born
and moves me with the power of thunder.

As the poet loves the rose,
so the fragrance of your beauty fills me.

As the artist loves the lone gull's flight across an ocean sunset
so I long to capture your essence and show it to the world.

You are my drunkard's wine.

Your presence like air to the bird,
in knowing you my soul soars.

The mystics of old knew something of my passion,
the prayer on their lips,
the long quiet hours of seeking within,
the ceaseless longing for a glimpse of the Infinite,
a whisper of Truth . . .

These, the humblest offerings of humanity to the Divine.

But now,

I have seen your face

and the Gods are jealous.