Manna Poem by Patti Masterman

To me, you are all things
That power of words alone cannot convey;
Mere letters cannot form the thought I hold,
No sentence tell the heart what it should say.

There is no volume with your name gilt-stamped,
No seal with your initials deeply etched,
No mystery play wherein your life, enacted
Reveals the wondrous times; the wretched.

Obscure, you rule my days with your indifference;
One detail of your life, one day of mine;
On shared glance, one indistinct gesture
Is manna for my whole lifetime.