Epiphany

It was an hour after your splendor broke me
That I found myself alone in a cloud of ghosts.
Some anonymous place, where fake-lights drizzled down,
Grazing the warm summer night walkways,
Overtaken by cricket songs and dying winds,
I walked my way unhurried, viscous-stepped,
Thinking of the worlds of your warmish eyes.
At intervals the selves around were born,
At intervals I was born in love in them.
A man unknown was sitting at the square
With a violin, tearing through the shadowed clouds above,
And suddenly the point was touched
Where intoxication reached its peak and the world
Emanated with a burning, glowing wonder:
As I listened,
To him, the crickets, souls of strangers,
The pale wind, the whispering night,
And the sigh of God that blessed it all
I grasped at last what made you shine,
And I hurried once more to the sanctuary
That held your holy smile.