Pure

I used to make love
to one particular partner
with one particular organ
of my body.
Now I make love
to every woman, every
creature on earth,
to bursting jasmine buds,
raindrops and clouds,
to the dew-teared freesia
and each little honey-thief
who pillages the secret
in her golden folds,
to the robin's nest with its
new blue egg, to the moon
and its reflection
in every mud puddle.
With the breath of night,
with millions of eyes,
millions of ears and lips
in all the cells of my body,
for a single moment of
eternal delight,
I make love to the Milky Way.
Nectar drips from the stars.
I become what I love.
My love is pure.