No one believes as I do
that between the atoms
of cherries and closing of windows,
beauty is born.
It is the memory of empty spaces.
The world belonging to its riddle.
As love is the purpose
of the sea’s music.
The heart’s puzzle,
its own romance.
When you come into the room,
light comes with you,
and an ache inside me rises.
I will go to my death
remembering how I am born
in the ambivalence of joy and pain.
The face of love
is an open generous sky.
Your eyes see into my transparencies,
and I am forever changed
moment to moment,
loving you.