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you gave me the words first,

then the melody – a dulcet base,

told me to sit in a silence,

and listen to myself – the artist in thought;

i heard the spring rains

August and September wailing in harmony – your favorite seasons

before your lips brushed mine

and awakened me from slumber.

you gave me the sights, then the sounds,

of shadowed moments, flesh tasted,

tangled, squeezed of clear,

sweet nectar,

followed by the blessing of

each inch of my skin – you assured

me, the color was precious to your sight.

you gave me the taste, then the texture

of myself, yourself, us congregated,

before His vision ;

then you wrote of our mysteries for me -

to reflect

gave me an instrument to sing of my own,

plucked pieces of self – you, then I – for strings

and listen softly, despite exhaustion

you gave me knowledge and the love

you have me the day and i gave you the night.