The sensation of being touched by eyes,
More sensual than any finger’s touch,
With intense softness that can paralyze,
Overwhelmed by feeling that means so much.

Your mystical gaze safely holds my heart,
Your stare is more gentle than velvet hands,
Even in photographs when we’re apart,
I’m moved by touch my soul never withstands.

If only you looked at me endlessly,
In my dreams I’m nothing but a mirror,
That’s never so blessed as to simply be,
To receive your stare when you come nearer.

Your eyes are like fire that doesn’t consume,
But I melt in their radiant presence,
Seducing me like the perfect perfume,
To be touched by eyes is feeling’s essence.

These scars,
Not a single one of them hurts.
Wounded,
Yes once, but the numbness reverts.

These scars,
I can touch them to remind me.
Wounded,
Yes once, but now it’s behind me.

These scars,
Disfigured skin says now I’m healed.
Wounded,
Yes once, that openness now sealed.

These scars,
Painful though what was hurt’s not there.
Wounded,
Yes once, its permanence laid bare.

She lies there staring up at me
And I wonder whether my eyes
Know how lucky they are to see
An actual blessing from God.

She lies there staring up at me
And I wonder whether my heart
Knows that it’s heartbeat is precious
Dependent on this love I feel.

She lies there staring up at me
And I wonder whether her smile
Knows how much energy it gives
And yet I cannot look away.

She lies there staring up at me
And I wonder if her body
Knows the need my body feels
To be one with hers, head to toe.

She lies there staring up at me
And I wonder whether her soul
Knows how much I’m in love with her
Just lying there, staring at me.

This isolated claustrophobia,
Inside, humans packed shoulder to shoulder,
In collective agoraphobia,
Neighbors bashfully quiet and colder.

This space among the masses I travel,
And thank goodness I’m surrounded by clouds.
Up here I can let my thoughts unravel,
Amidst the solitude of faceless crowds.

Above the clouds where daydreams come alive,
I have the space to write without judgment.
Towards Heaven I know my soul can survive,
Dancing in the clouds I see your movement.

Up in the air I’ve left the Earth behind,
With other aimless souls passing the time.
Seems traveling by plane is where I find
The inspiration for the perfect rhyme.

My imagination is so feeble,
For no matter how hard I try,
My image of how beautiful you are
Is nothing like reality.

My best dreams are so ineffectual.
For no matter how lucidly,
My clearest dreams of you and your beauty,
Are dull compared to the real you.

My most eloquent words lose their meaning,
For no matter what words I choose,
My language too simple and imprecise
For the indescribable you.

Between last night and this morning,
Between the full moon and sunrise,
When dark descended like a sheet,
And heavy lids covered my eyes,

The stars emerged and receded,
Nocturnal hours ticked away,
A carpet of frost was laid down,
There between last night and today.

Ere dawn blackness interceded,
Taunting me, “Where is your light now?”
Yesterday had been locked away,
And I must start again somehow.

The nightfall came to curse the past,
I embraced it to block the shame,
Because soon the sun will come up,
And I will never be the same.

Between intention and action,
That gap is filled with processes.
Mental. Emotional. Unknown.
What penetrates those recesses?

Between intention and action,
What moves across that connection?
Feeling. Need. Pain. Inertia. Fear.
What motivates that direction?

Between intention and action,
There is the indispensable.
Devotion. Love. Strength. Soulfulness.
Are our lives comprehensible?

Between intention and action,
Do we call on our sense of awe?
Pathos. Concentration. Wonder.
That’s where we enter kavanah.