Forty-Seven

it's a beautiful thing when
the red itchy presence of
mosquito bites only reminds
you that god is everywhere.

here in the sky the moon
is carrot orange, shaded by
the night which is lit by the
sun from another somewhere
far away, though never quite
that far when in the cosmic palm.

you and i are sitting here like
two little candles just placed
within the same pool of floating
wax incense and flower petals
ruby red and magenta splashing
through our veins, our minds
intoxicated with our light that
shines so much brighter when
we are together. the type of
brightness that doesn't go away
even when we do part.

i count the sandalwood beads
in a never-ending string that
wraps around us all tightly like
beautifully spun thick threads of
wool and warmth that seep into all
our pores and fill our coldest places
with the warmest love that exists