Together we make the tongue and its cave.
The same hand that caresses Your breath
is our intimate flesh speaking.
I hunt You where You chase
Your dancing heart.
You are the song and the singer
the regalia of worship.
As a ritual of space and occasion
I plant my soul in Your presence.
With the meek hands of passion
I form the prayers of Your love.
A practice in the fecund openings
where invocations are the movement
of one place within another-
a daily ceremony of the light
as it learns to speak again.
I am recollected into pools
for Your water.
Areas in which to bathe
to be made whole
as You empty Me out.
You paint the past
and with every heartbeat
hammer eternity into sound and vision.
I am unfastened from incidence
as You remember Yourself in me.