Stop for a moment.
Imagine that one day you will embrace silence.
You will look backwards and you will recognize
that this silence always rocked you to dream
about  boy who gave a falling leaf,
about nights longer than day,
about lost years,
about not ending talks at dusk ,
about stormy wind which lifts up the waves of the sea,
about warm summer like a desert wind,
about  fire of dancing bodies,
about horizon of fulfilled fantasy,
about  soul brave as a lion,
about forgiveness of inequitable sins,
about harvest of ripe apples,
about fresh bread in the morning.

Stop for a moment.
Imagine that one day you will pass away.
You will look bakwards and you will recognize
that everything on earth has deeper meaning
boundless despair,
fulfilled promise,
sense of hopelessness,
carefree laughter,
overwhelming piece of art,
passionate kiss,
poetry before bedtime,
long walks in forest,
thick fog in the morning,
birth of a child,
glittering stars in the sky,
wild dance of the senses,
sweet flavor of peach,
God's wisdom,
even your name.

Stop for the moment.
Imagine that one day you will be permeated by thougt
that the beauty in others is not ethereal.
You will look backwards and you will recognize
that you didn't  appreciate significance of invisible treasures
of  heart filled with hope,
of  hand given for goodbay,
of  secret of eyes in love,
of  soul as particle of divinity,
of  faith in another human being,
of   prayer of child,
of  warmth of awaited touch,
of  taste of shed tears,
of  burden of sacrifice,
of  joy from happy ending,
of undying values,
of delight in the sun,
of  love larger than life.

Stop for a moment.
Look backwards as long as you have time.

We are young, they say,
like the new stars forming,
like the ocean sounds adorning
sleep to the city dweller,
with his leathered face
but handsome pay.

He's exchanging the sirens
for a more rhythmic pace,
taking off his coat
and professional face,
to press you to the wall,
forgetting the Keats and the Byrons
that came before.

We are young, I'm sure,
despite having to crawl,
despite disappearing into
the city sprawl,
and returning half a person,
only memory intact,
and a stream of shutting doors.

You're giving up too soon.
Too soon a disciple of established fact,
too soon beguiled by
your own stage-lit act;
a smile worn, rather than felt,
a dress bought for him,
but never touched,

and for all of the hands
you may have dealt,
not a single one
has kept you young.

Our moments collect in concentric rings about the nexus
Of a first embrace, adorned with Autumnal colors and scents -
We lovers blend, cupped gently below the stir of flecks and dapple.
Each leaf high up quivers in the bouquets and knows when to let go,
Fly and fall to earth.

Whispers from a rustling canopy climb down the bark encasements
Of these tall and somnolent trees, thirsty leaves that clatter and kiss,
Wink awake – brilliant – hold our gaze and suspend our hearts.
In a pirouette amidst the amity of recollection and premonition -
We shimmer in an iridescence of saffron on copper – remember this.

Moments light up, each one, for just an instant, the last of our lives;
Each conveniently the beginning of forever and forever smiles at us.
Rippling across the cycles of solstice and equinox, we radiate –
A nostalgic procession toward unmade memories, like tree rings.
We fly and fall in love.

Time flows inexorably like a river
and we become the waves of  vivid memories
bustling in us like a heart.

If the kiss lasted through all eternity
I would become the ocean of your breaths.