Extending my love, as you sit
Poised and dignified as ever,
I wait on its reception like some sommelier
Pouring a lush vintage into an empty glass.
But needing not a drop more than
The contentment you contain,
A cup filled to its brim, with
Not a drip of overflow, I realise
Acceptance is a fool’s goal. For
What cup can take in more without
Exceeding its lip’s confine and so
Spill lees onto fine linen?
I shall not ask you to
Accept my love, but hope you’ll
Meet it at the door of your heart;
Not knock, not rattle the porcelain,
But whisper like a zephyr that
Wrinkles the air with the gentlest breath.
For your heart is replete,
And no measure of mine could
Increase its priceless store, nor yours fill me,
I hope; but we shall be blessed
By the atmosphere of grace,
Fecund and rich with joy.
In neither refusing nor taking love,
But being infused by the hovering Spirit,
We thus take part in a holy translation of light –
Our beings at one and shining
Though held apart in unique completion.
For showing me that love is not portion
But presence, as light as ether,
Adrift as the immateriality
Of an angel – with peace in its bearing,
Perfuming the beloved in the
Aura of its attendance –
I bid you thanks.
– M. M. Leveille
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