What Matters

 

All that matters is the kiss

of pistil and stamen.

All that matters is the wave nature of the moon.

All that matters is the sexual caress

of listener and silence, thrill

of stillness where the music is conceived.
Ishq Allah Ma'bud Allah,
the Lord is Love, Lover, and Beloved.

All that matters is the death of distances,

the sapphire yearning-pool

where the sky in your forehead drowns

my darkest embryo again and again.

Are we not born inside each other tears?

Here is our gift of emptiness.

Ishq Allah Ma'bud Allah.

All that matters is the touch

of your breath pouring

out of its desert night across the sea

where stars arrange themselves 

tenderly over your slumber, 

and my breath ebbs into 

the diamond blackness

that is always awake.

Poem originally published in the journal 'Empty Mirror.'
Photo by Wayne Bressler.