APHRODITE
Are you the moon’s silver sigh,
or the sun’s golden flame?
You walk through my soul like a whispering river,
your presence—light itself, without a name.
Your hair cascades like twilight’s hush,
where wandering clouds find rest.
And in your eyes, I drink the wine
that turns the world to blissful jest.
O love, you are the cup, the prayer, the intoxication,
the unbroken music of longing’s breath—
If you are a dream, let me never wake,
for waking would be a kind of death.
Your face blooms upon life’s quiet waters,
a lotus untouched by passing streams.
And when you speak, your words unfurl
like verses born from a poet’s dreams.
O radiant one, neither moon nor sun—
you are the hush between the stars,
the silence that sings before dawn’s birth,
the soul’s lost home, near yet far.
Whatever you are—by the heavens, I swear—
you are beyond words, beyond compare.
