Reflection and Revelation

I.

I gaze upon you on the sand

a whisper of fresh breath of the morn

The ocean bathes your feet

soft, blemished, product of earth

smoothing the tan lines with grains

a pliable patch of grains

into which our hard heels press

washed o'er in a splash

II.

Yet who knows who we are

resting 'neath the coconut palms

myst'ries at our feet

our hands touching the surest of them

Here the milk of the husked nut refreshes

where getting drunk leaves us dry

and even the smell of fecal sweetness

is more real than perfume sprayed on thighs

We are palates of pigments

a canvas of gods, sketched by God

a mark like lips parting

murmuring theophanies in the universe

oblivious to our power at hand

hiding behind masks of  gauze

III.

Myst'ry

we are plump-mystery

and if we'd touch just a hand

it is this we'd touch

this painting of God

with God in ev'ry tint