She

She was my first love, my first joy,

My only love, my only joy

Her name was Language.

Her hands were words, her feet were letters

Her eyes were sonnets, her voice was a song

When I looked into her eyes,

And she looked into mine,

All I could feel was the sweetest eloquence

Of beautiful words.

Words, words, everywhere,

Beautiful in themselves

But dancing with each other 

In the royal ball of languages,

Words dancing with words,

Weaving together greater beauty

O beauty that mankind cannot bear!

O that I could read aloud for thousands of years

Her epic poems, written throughout the centuries!

O that I could dance and delight

In the beauty of meaning!

The beauty that I see in her unassuming words

Catches me unawares

And makes me breathless and yet full of life

Would that all peoples turn to her

And descry her profound beauty that points to another

(For hers is a beauty that points).

O that we may grow old together, my love, my sweet,

We with our immortal souls,

And you with your unpassing Words,

Older and older for all eternity

And yet she smiles gently at me - 

And her every smile is a majestic story of hope,

Her tears are tales of woe -

And she speaks, though all I hear is music:

"If thou callest me beautiful,

What if thou wert to see my Maker?"

And all the world is silent,

Holding their breath.

For the Maker of all Beauty

Is infinitely more beautiful

And everything parts, gives way,

And all I see is light, beautiful light,

Iridescence of majestic light,

And finally -

All languages, words,

Letters, meanings fade away,

And who I see is a single Word,

The Word

And if I thought she were beautiful - 

The Word -

O beauty that mankind cannot bear to behold!

I am now infinitely more breathless,

And yet full of life.

Silence! Eloquence! Majestic Beauty!

And all words hold their quiet

She was my first love, my first joy,

My only love, my only joy

Until I met her Maker.

And then did I fall in love 

    with 

        the Word