I had a lover,
who was beautiful
and kind.
She grabbed the sun out of the sky
and grinded it into a powder.
She blushed her face with it,
and each time she passed
she would turn the flowers.
Her hair was a river,
it flowed for days and days,
and ended in a single teardrop.
Her hair
made the world
wish for more rain.
When she called me,
I answered.
Her voice freed me.
Her pupils
were the nexus.
Her iris'
were a foundry.
When she blinked,
everything darkened
and I wished she would never do it again.
When she slept,
she snored
peacefully.
And I drew her close to me
just to be closer to nirvana.
It is only fair
that such things
cannot be sustained.
That is too much beauty
for only one man
to hold.
She is a gift,
to the earth.