At The Edges of My Eyes

What do you look at Siddhartha
at the edges of my eyes
near the places
worry and smiles have marked
with lines?

You tell me of the silently beautiful mouth
of Gotama and I cannot hear enough
of that kind of peace.

I have felt the universe vibrate
inside the edges of my mouth
and just under the surface of my skin—
this inner earthquake
trembling all I know at the foundation of spirit.

You enlighten me with these stories
of the blessed one
and I take silent vows
to give away the garden
to this holy man.

I know tonight
I will make love to you,
one last time, Siddhartha,
before you leave my side
having etched your face into the first cells
of your son.
He has been waiting quietly at this spirit door
and will enter and grow in the space
you will vacate in my body.

I will extract as much as I dare
when your body joins with mine,
my sweet Love,
for I will need as much of you as you can give—
nourishment for all the long days and nights
that will come too soon without you.

I will gather stories from your skin
and laughter from your hair.
I will touch your feet
with my grateful tears
and release eternity
from the dust of all your travels.

But now, Siddhartha,
you look at me,
you look through me,
you look to the future,
eager to leave this suffering
and all samsara.

Come now, Love
into my bed,
into the long night,
so that I might kiss you
farewell.