Honesty

No one will know you

nor could learn

how to touch you softer,

gentler,

nor more intimately 

than the cooling breeze

of a summer storm

sent with honesty

from the sea.

No lover could keep you longer,

could love you 

more relentlessly

than the long-craved for

climatic summer heat.

The young bronze skin of your body, glistening with glass beads of perspiration from an active afternoon, is the guardian of your intricacy, an ornate temple. Your sacred sentience is enshrined here.

It is when the most inner-ness 

of your universe

is drawn to all that is other,

when the godliness 

of your existence awakens

that your being

is just as honest,

just as relentless

as the love of our beautiful mother

in the climax of the summer.