Lines In Your Silence

Gravity bends the pines—

and my thoughts with them.

You remain unmoved,

a cup of tea cooling between your hands.

No word, no sound,

no promise, no eagerness

only the stillness that holds

mathematical eroticism upright.

The world argues its meaning,

shouting and pouting.

In the power of nothing,

you live it.

Pulling my pulls into your rhythm,

my breath count beating with yours

What need have I for victory and conquest

when your still being is the measure of enough?

All things return to balance and seeing

through the calm geometry of your elegant being.