Who are you
tripping down my life—
you running, you slipping
you noisily crowding
you lingering through my life . . .
who are you, pouring past—
you male, you female
you dark, and you fair
you with the butterflies in your hair . . .
you who are straight
and you who are not
you who promised but then forgot . . .
you young, you old
you bundled, you bare
you uncut, you smooth-cheeked
and respectably square . . .
can you be mortals coming and going
lone separations ebbing and flowing?
Are you not the dawn of one kingdom appearing—
one plan, one purpose, one love
individually revealing . . .
chalices of laughter, bearers of light
extending, forwards and backwards,
beyond mortal sight . . .?
you hold a promise, you sail the sea
of Love's all-inclusive unfolding to me.
