[Your body is you, but i can only see the out
side of it,but i am glad because
it would not mean much to me to see your heart beating and
your blood circulating,and your brain bubbling,
and beneath that everything down to your DNA
would not be understandable except to a Supreme Intelligence,
which in itself must be outside the realm of my discourse,
for which we give thanks.]
Your face is map enough for me,
Your gaze,your smile, your frown ,your glee.
And if I want to know the rest,
The shape your posture’s made is best
For guessing what your life is now.
A look,a gesture, all this show,
Till who you are is then disclosed
And I am in your arms enrobed.
Love vanishes when analysed,
And thinking, too,by Love’s despised.
Use the means to fit the end
And then I’ll be what you intend.
How my heart sings 