My Cup Runneth Over Poem by Arno Le Roux

'My Cup Runneth Over'
The quiet windstil moments call
Art form calling our souls to stall
To adhere to the ancient mystic tie
Find and lock our nakedness lie
Happiness for the few a secret learn
Is the still, content, smiles we yearn
To switch off needs just keeping own stares
Be aware of the pleasure we dare'nt share
Alone in our skin as when we arrive
But never ignoring a secret alive
Not talking, thinking, needing more
Lonely key to a complicated locked door
Arno Le Roux 2015