Behind the theatre of my waking thought,
Where every intention stands well taught,
There drifts a quieter and deeper sea,
A pulse that moves the hidden parts of me.
My mind composes reasons clear and clean,
A careful script of what is felt and seen,
Yet underneath, in chambers small,
Another rhythm answers to it all.
Something in my heart tips the scale,
A hush of warmth that reason could not hail.
I find myself defending fragile things,
Protecting moments small as sparrow wings.
As if some vow was written long ago
In ink too faint for sight to know.
A subtle light the mind cannot forget,
Yet moves me still, like the tape of a cassette.
And though my thoughts still stand guard with measured art,
It is that quiet undertow of heart
That writes its will in gestures small and true,
And makes me someone subtly changed by you.
And when the east begins to burn with flame,
And morning softly speaks the daylight’s name,
My love ascends with that unfolding hue,
A second sun that always feels like you.
It lifts with every golden ray,
And warms the quiet corners of my day,
The way your presence, simple, unplanned,
Can turn the smallest hour to shining land.
When evening draws its silver curtain wide,
And moonlight spills in patient, tidal stride,
My love returns in calmer, deeper light,
A lantern set within the ribs of night.
It does not fade when daylight takes its leave,
Nor thin when darker hours begin to weave,
It only changes phase, as moons will do,
Still circling close, still bright because of you.
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