" Morning Meditation

I used to rise early in meditation,
As the ancient saints and mystics,
Looking for peace, bliss, and ecstasy.

Now I awake as the sun rises.
I lie beside her,
Her head and the tops of her shoulders
Revealed from the top of the covers
Where we lay. Her face shines,
As the sun rolls through the bedroom
Curtains and leave her with a mandorla
As if she were the subject of iconography.

I lay in silence as I meditate on the artistry
Of freckles that are perfectly dotted
On her face and shoulders.
I venerate the delicate curvature
Of her lips and nose. Her eyes closed,
Veiled by a composition of lashes
That shroud the green mystery underneath.
As her hair lays dark and graceful
Across the pillows in front of me,
I lay in adoration,
and know there are none like her.

Moses was not even shown God's face,
Yet she has done me one better. "

― Eric Overby , Journey