Fruit for a Season

The lust of the flesh, the lust of the eyes,  
and the pride of life will pass away  
and I, as one given to such desires,  
will pass away as well and cease to exist.  
The beauty that captured me in your eyes was like  
sunlight glimmering on a floating bubble  
that lasts only a moment.  
When the liquid edges of our lives collide with death,  
we cease to be.  
 
We will not have a home in darkness.  
We will not dwell in some spirit world.  
We will not BE at all.
 
I bowed between the spreading wings    
that gave flight to your spirit    
for its short time on earth.    
I licked the portal of your center,    
knowing that its elastic writhing    
of limbs unfurled, fluid and at ease    
would one day turn to ash.  
 
Still, in faith, I worshiped the   
beauty that Creation provided.  
I adored even the ruins that your vessel    
would one day become as I tasted the  
briny orchard of your consciousness    
with the understanding that its sweet fruit    
was only mine for a season.