I Wonder If You Always Tell The Truth

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A Gift Of Love

I thumbed your name through particles of dust

That laid a ruin on history’s prescient page,

Whose years have tumbled down to this exchange

Of vows between my hunger and your thirst.

The karmic wheel has spun me to your spell

And heartward with the turning season sped.


The fuse of love’s first fever charged the nerve.

The cells of our dead selves have taken shape

And congregated at our Eden’s gate,

That you might, from these ghosts, my face discern.

Though haunted compass needles train true north,

My muscle’s magnet craved your southern port.


Today I turn my burning hand to craft,

A constellate of planet, sun and star

To animate the keystone of the heart;

A miracle of water, rock and staff

To nourish the marrow of the cosmic bone,

And make to you, my wife, this gift of love.