If I Were a Poet

First, our selves,
and then, us
in the sky above opening,
the earth below,
and the time now
for a moment in an ocean as
big as a planet
floating in a galaxy
that spins like the love we feel.

Stars are shouting,
the night is dancing
and singing with all of
heaven is there with bodies leaping in flames,
with music and language, chords and verbs,
the syntax of passion.

And then
here we are again,
you and I,
breathing and sleeping,
sleeping and dreaming,
in the quietest room.