Remembering the Way

Remembering the Way

Reminiscence of a youth in remission,
Love concealed for experience drawn on,
But never commingled with the fermenting of dreams.

Long brunette, thin frame, supple madness,
Sitting on, lying on, curled on a warm mattress.
Our cocoon of quilts and pillows,
Holding heat and scent of memories
Only guessed until further revealed:
Higher love, eternal discourse,
Desire for what was.

Bodies in the evening,
Like murmurs of laughter on the breeze,
Fervor of physical play in the late summer sunset,
Dark winter seas.
Physical abandon, touch when we please,
So real,
So unreal,
So much more than sinology could see:
Harmony, melody, body, movement separated
From time and space,
Its own song:
The Tao without western contradiction,
Like Wes Montgomery changing chords:
Everything without the effort.

To know your voice,
To hear my own,
To remember our gradual decent into sleep,
The silence comforting—
Until the morning choir . . .
How many birds?
I cannot count at our awakening
Face to face.
I watch your eyes slowly open,
Squinting with your growing smile;
We begin again
With our tireless embrace.