What The Yogi Didn't Know

  

An emaciated yogi told me 

there is no other,

only One.

He must have meant

this One.

Or that One.

Look, there's

another One!

I don't love you

because you are me.

I love you because  

you are you. 

Because you breathe lilac islands where the moon path leads my feet 

across the ocean of your eyes and pale birds in the garden of your body  

sing secret names that tremble with the fragrance of the rainbow. 

Painting: Marie Stillman, 1885