We Three
My love wanders the rooms, melodious,
flute notes, plucked wires,
full of wine the Magi drank
on the way to Bethlehem.
We are three. The moon comes
from its quiet corner, puts a pitcher of water
down in the center. The circle
of surface flames.
One of us kneels to kiss the threshold.
One drinks, with wine flames playing over his face.
One watches the gathering,
and says to any cold onlookers,
This dance is the joy of existence.
I am filled with you.
Skin, blood, bone, brain, and soul.
There’s no room for lack of trust, or trust.
Nothing in this existence but that existence.
Footnote. That would seem, at the end, to be parallel to the nondualism of Advaita Hinduism.