Beauty is more
lovely
half-veiled.
Dawn through sea-mizzle
at the cliff’s edge.
Let this golden mystery be
known by one whose eyes
have been polished by waiting.
To cocoon your
revelation
is the way of wings.
Astonishing colors begin
with moonlight in dew
on lilac leaves.
Discretion of a cloud
reflected on a forest pond,
both there, and not there.
The age of
restraint, the age
of yearning will return
through our gaze, O lover,
sister, pilgrim friend,
as we temper blind beams
of wanting into the rainbow
of a subtler body,
through a chiaroscuro
of prudence and delight.
Not for mere discipline,
but a more psalterium flavor,
let there be a renaissance of
modesty, to fashion our fierce
eternal fire into this dulcet
earth-moment, when I gaze
into the bright
darkness
of your eyes.
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