If not for the shadows in my own heart, I would not know the measure of your grief. If I could
not see the reflection of love in her eyes, I could not drown in love’s ocean. If there was no
moonlight on the meadow, night’s silver beauty would remain lost. If I were not the river, what
is it that flows in my veins? If not for my dog’s jubilant reception, I would not know how to welcome
this day. If there were no ways into mystery, I would dry up and die like an autumn leaf. If there was
no way to be alone, I would not know the eagle’s joyful solitude. If the story did not appear naked
on my ear, I would not be transformed into my lover’s substance. If I was not held dear to your heart, my roots
could not grow deep into the waiting darkness. If not for the blissful delight of a baby at the breast, I would not
know how you quiet me with your love.
© Mark Williams
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