Come look at the moon with me

Come look at the moon with me.
Come and see the treasures
of light at night
turning the river to silver
touching and blessing
my eyes
gazing with love.

Feel how real the moment is,
even in dreaming,
when it spills and spreads
out upon the floor
slipping through the open door
of my heart
rushing toward yours.

Sometimes, I must confess,
I want the quiet gifts that bless.

I want to sip the finest wine
aged in the fullness of time
before vanishing into
the sun.

I lay my secret longings
at the foot
of the tree of life
promising to try and stop
the songs I sing
with the nightingale
outside your window,
and I hear Hafiz laughing
at my foolishness.

Who would know better
how impossible
it would be to stop the flow
of longing
floating on every river
in the world
beneath the moon.

Who would know better than
the dancing friend
tapping a soulful rhythm
on the roof of your house
while you sleep
hoping to awaken you.