I know there is someone beyond you.

I know that on this level

you and I are not much more than concept;

you and I are a story, novella,

tragic and delicious,

two leaves on the rushing arm of river

briefly, beautifully dancing and overlapping

as though intentional,

but it’s just the water beneath us

drifting us in synchronicity,

the subtle choreographer,

the natural grace and disaster

sweeping us into overtone and unison.

Thank you for awakening my heart to this archetype

for the rush of color your definite stride has infused into the vacuum of my soul,

for the flavor of language you coat my mouth with.

Some days the question is resurrected

after I, we, do our best to lay it to rest,

pushing itself out of the soil again,

blooming insistent, biblical,

and each time I hear its case afresh,

look deep into your remembered eyes

and say to it –

‘no, I’m still not sure’,

but isn’t that just the way sometimes?

No clean cut-off,

no way to reintegrate all the frayed ends into total coalescence.

I can’t just resolve our story for good by saying ‘the end’.

This time I can claim no authorship.

It’s been weeks now since I saw you last

and your layered smile

saying that you want me, you’re sorry, you’re hopeful, you’re nervous, you’re torn

without even parting your lips,

and mine saying how good it is to see you,

and with duty we walk on

in separate but cycling directions.

When I imagine you and I

there is no earthy place we are,

no shared space but innerspace,

nothing tangible in the ways we’ve touched,

the body: shimmering hot like a mirage,

disruptable, reduced to vibration –

that’s no way to be human, love;

full of grace and potent as it is to exist in this tender heaven of our closeness

it is not the purpose of this life,

yours, mine, ours are lives

of purpose louder

than the ethereal clarion

that rises in the moments of our union.

Hold strong in this truth my beloved:

that some loves beg no consummation to be complete,

that some stories have no satisfying conclusion,

that I will still hold you dearly in my own heart

even when I do not hold you in my arms,

that if you feel sorrow or regret

know it’s just this path

which we can only take one of,

limited by our singular bodies,

and that somewhere just out of reach

we walk side by side,

and just beyond that space,

exist without separation,

wholly joined infinitely,

fleshless and without task,

lovers forever.

About jake.forrest

Poet. Songwriter. Etc. View all posts by jake.forrest

2 responses to “8/1/15

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