(no subject)

I know a mountain lake where who looks in
Sees treasures thrown together in the gloom
In female wise: past price each, but assume
Their union and see one past "past" begin.

The seven shines of gold incessant play
And meet and melt in one another there
Where shy light strokes the limits of her hair,
That darkness seeming-wet but dry as day.

The secret parts of shells their graces learn
From subtleties those cheeks and shoulders dare.
The thoughtful sways of waist and back, when bare,
Suggest to fire a calmer way to burn.

The urgent eyes and sudden lips they ride
Bely the seaweed maze of thoughts that stir
When gentle waves of warmth emerge from her,
To fold us in or join us here outside.

O seeker, worry not to find your breath
Disturb the picture that your heart disturbs.
The sky's and her hair braid like twisted herbs
That thrill with scent of mingled life and death.

And legend sighs that he whose lucky moon
Down leads him through the deepest drift of night
To where the shore and water zip up tight
Will find them parting at his feet, and soon,

A shape will slip the waves' dark interim
And whisper him through riches unbethought
To shaping centers, there where (bringer, brought)
The life that's past mere passing they become.