Beloved Angel of my heart,
how hauntingly the peacocks called
from our nuptial grove at dawn!
How thrilling for our first morning!
We may imagine, even now,
that we can still hear those peacock-
singing sounds, yet it is not so!
Even the most sensitive ear
cannot hear a single note!
How can that be?
There is no one hearing,
there is only the sound —
already gone before it arrives
to caress our ears with its absence.
Listen now, such heartbroken yearning
radiates in the poignancy of those echoing cries –
is any heart so different, is any tiny trill
afloat on the breeze not a soul tune
of bitter-sweet benediction?
All memories themselves are now rendered
superfluous in the pure peacock pleasure
of this omnipresent music, this rhapsody
of melting heart notes, twined in tonality’s
resonant thrill, echoing into forgetfulness,
drifting prayers on spring dawn winds.
I see you standing in the doorway,
sorrowless, stainless, serene in your loving,
and I am gently falling into your eyes, undone
in your presence, the presence of my own heart
that took the form of you, the eyes of you, your smile.
At this moment I hear nothing, the silence
is immense, a sheer block of immensity
that is appearing as you and me
and everything, everything.
From the centerless core of this silence
a peacock suddenly calls out to its mate,
and then my tears flood out at your feet,
and now you are smiling, reaching out,
embracing me, and this soft embrace
had no beginning in time, nor will it
ever end, my Love, nor will it