The Sun does not set each day
it is obscured into night by you;
its red finger-lights,
its rushing sun beams
retreat
blushed dark into embarrassment.

The green spot
at sunset
over water
is an exclamation point.

It's You.

I have seen the Firmament
clutch its heartstrings;

I have seen Inner Night
recline on Silk-Covered Anticipations.

Its You.

Winds quiet.
Beasts are soothed,

all is twilight.

It's You.

Thunder soft,
gathering intensity
all this is fueled
by nothing but a smile
from you.

All descends
once again;
magic time
comes real.

Each time spackled expection.
Each time cart-wheeling surprize
Each time unreal.

In the quiet rush
I hear foot-steps.

It's You

The room has no oxygen;
only night perfumes
and loving humors.

Under cover
gather
earth, sun and moon
because in glittering night
they all live here
in our room.

It's You.