I Love You with All I Am

I love you with all I am
And all I'll ever be.
You are my moon, my sun and stars,
My earth, my sky, my sea.
My love for you goes down and down
Beneath both life and death,
So deep it must remain when I
Have drawn my last faint breath.

Holding you for months and years
Will make Time disappear,
Will make your lips my lips, your face
My face, your tear my tear;

Will make us one strange personage
All intertwined in bliss,
Not man or woman, live or dead--
Just nothing--but a kiss!

I Am of the Desert, You of Cultivation

I am of the desert, you of cultivation:
Simplicity to me, to you is desolation;
Heat, thirst, and agony I seek out on vacation,
While you look for elegance and quiet restoration.
I am of the ocean, you are of the shore:
You want fewer waves, I manufacture more;
You like tranquil bays, I love the rollers' roar;
In me, a wild emptiness; in you, a quiet core.
While I am like a stream, you are like a lake:
I babble over boulders, you reflections make;
I rush forward heedlessly, as bones and branches break;
You part before the piercing bow and then absorb the wake.
That such extremes should not be mingled might seem elementary;
But love can make the wildest contradictions complementary.

What Makes Stars Romantic

What makes stars romantic? Is it the beauty
Of a night sky dark lit with diamonds?
Or the wilderness of blue-white witnesses
Staring wordless back across the abyss?
Or the fascination of forever? (For love
Is a fragment of forever lodged in the heart.)
Is it the need for two when one seems so small?
The desire to touch in the temple? The vast, lonely
Field of life in which love, too, is a light
Amidst darkness? (So many lovers scattered across
The black canopy like burning dust.)

Or is it the passion at a star's heart?
The heat of love lighting the emptiness,
Hurling its ardor across light years of sorrow
To tell us something about what yearns within?

Just Wanted You to Know: I Love You

Just wanted you to know: I love you.
Months have passed since we became close friends.
Every day I find I'm thinking of you,
Though no word from you that message sends.
And yet we share all other thoughts and feelings:
I cannot wait to tell you of my day,
And you give me the gist of all your dealings,
Which makes me hope we walk in the same way.
Telling you this is opening a door
That never can be closed again, and yet
I must, because I ache for something more,
Something that I must risk all to get.
Some night, perhaps, we'll go hang out somewhere;
I will reach for you, and you'll be there.

All poems copyright: Nicholas Gordon - Poemsforfree.com