Day

What word of simple human creation,
could give hint to the fellow human's heart,
of no end to the light of this meditation;
what word would even serve to start?

What distant eternal cries,
could have seen to the rising and the shine,
of the love in these eyes;
what love did make you mine?

What life's ever-looming breath,
can see to this ever-present, ever-spoken,
living, loving longing's death;
what life can take this love?

What can stray this eye from you,
that without you this heart would even beat a second,
and would give rise to love anew;
what could take this love?

What death's apparent finality,
could see to the dimming of this light,
of this luminosity within me;
what death, too soon in coming, could take this love?

What in your eyes could show,
that this light could be extinguished,
and ever cease to shine;
could even you take this love?