You say it best, with silence,

You say it best,
With Silence,
Of Yours,
Like a drizzling beauty,
Shining washing a soul,
And filling me,
All the time
With Ink,
Like that ink
Gil perhaps poured
Over pages,
In his notes
Of a sabbat,

Ink,
Writing to reach
The bliss,
Like that moisture
On rained leaves,
Like that Wednesday,
Wrote Eliot*
Unheard, Unspoken,
Commemorating a conversion,

And me writes
Straight
To Your silent garden's gate,
Heart and Mind
Like Truth in Your eyes,

Knowing
You say it best,
With your drizzles,
On a Wednesday.

(Note: *T.S.Eliot, the poet,
The picture attached is from a book of notes, by Gil Van Wagner, a friend of mine, me worked a bit photographically, on the page. )

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