Friday, May 1, 2009

My Master Piece

He hangs in matted grace
as canvas caressed
in silken brushstroke.

Swelling pride sweeps
and stirs in hidden
places and rhythmic repose.

I see the face, the eyes
etched in stirring,
lips soften in quickening glance.

Mastery of mystic knowing,
speaking in tongues
as sensual watching.

As close as touch,
ecstasy beyond
delight's boundaries...

No words can match
this Master...
king of the night Om.

Awe and admiration
from a faraway smile
surpasses understanding.

Is a masterpiece less beautiful
from a distance?

Gazing in silence
beyond words...
I know his resplendent beauty
was meant to be shared.

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