It is a night for lovers
but I drift alone on the lake
a spy in this dusky domain.
Mesmerized, I pleasure in
the wind’s brooding caress
(like the Spirit’s pregnant presence)
on the ebony skin of the water.
Picture-still in the fair sky
a faithful gathering of stars
awaits evening’s queen.
Bedded in Earth’s motherly breast
she will ascend in mirrored lustre
at the birthing of new love.
Were you here and I not alone,
she would rise only to bow
in the face of love’s sunlike brilliance.
But I drift lonely in the dark
and this night still lacks lovers.
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