Your presence is a benediction,
That Time thought of you, here-
And Space is not allowed one word
To move you, far or near.
Your breath is a vaporous sacrament,
The living body's tithe;
The foggy truth, upon the mirror:
That you are here, alive.
I like this so much I want to write a poem....keying off of the word Time....with your permission of course
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A lovely little verse, full o meaning.