Friday, July 6, 2012

Love as a singular noun

opalescent bubbles shimmering
in the dim light of a clouded moon
given with a heart completely peeled
they linger on his lips just long enough
glinting desperately from his teeth
longing for that final act of communion
he gives them back to me
and I to him
and back again
more fluid than the moment
swallowed each by love, by life, by this wondrous
whimsical notion that to be again may be again
and again again, for there is no end to our beginning
the fissure grows 
such unimaginable beauty


Have you ever seen the sunrise through a dew drop?
Have you ever seen the heart of the lion through a telescope?

Ever changing, and ever the same.

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