The Geometry of Her Melody
And what I wonder, in my wonderment of her,
Can she not compose while disposing me at heart?
And I ask, in my questioning of her,
Can she not sing as if the songbird of moonlit
Eternal Night nested in her smooth and sabled throat?
There is a geometry inherent in her melody
A music practiced as if for God
That measures round about my soul
Each time I fall within the rhythm of her grace.
There is a tempo to her lilting breath
As she softly breathes within my anxious ear
That sweet compass which lines each staff
She plays perfectly upon the instrument of myself.
A clarity of voice, a light of entangled gaze,
And I am squared as if some ancient architect
Has plumbed the depths by which I resonate
Within the geometry of her profound melody.
Her signature writ upon my troubled brow
Trembles like the whispered beat of blood
Along the concourse of my very veins,
Her absence as if the Cathedral Bells toll not at morning light.
What key does she clasp upon her waiting breast
That has taken all the heart of me
As proof of our mutual consent, and my sole assent,
That her song is the melody of which I dreamt?
There is a symmetry inherent within her gazing eyes
A music like the circling summer spheres
Which cloud the twilight heaven with unseen worlds
Invisible to men, and yet in perfect orbit matched.
And I as if some satellite, by her human gravity,
Am pulled irresistibly towards her native sound
Whose pause is as if the air stood still
When the whisper of her melody catches close upon the wind.
There is a matchless geometry
A music practiced as if by God
That circulates round about the world
Each time I fall within the pleasure of her grace.
And eminent by being shaped and formed with her
I cannot help but orbit by her side,
Enrapt by that melody whose note I hear
Each time she sings in the tranquil quiet of the night
To ease my cares, and measure out delight.
(for my wife)
© JWG, Jr. 2007
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