bare branches give way
foreheralding winter's sting
snow beneath grey skies
if I'd been expecting it
would I have been suave
or just as choked and nervous?
if I could meet you all over again
for the first time
and know all the things I hadn't.
a stage to play through memories.
like your favorite book
or an old, beloved film.
you would see everything underneath - all making sense
and losing no beauty.
what fun it would be to watch it all play out
smile knowing all the secrets
reciting all the lines
it's not about the ending
it's how the story's told.
in the labyrinth of my heart, a hall
home to a door below a sign
of letters painted blue
past whose oft-betrodden threshold
stand old and sturdy bookshelves, full.
rows of windows overlook
the winding roads among the trees below
and in this room I see the two
who many times have met in aeons past.
faces in their hundreds come and go
but this pair of souls affixed
falling anew with every hour remain.
brushing hands 'neath countertops,
knowing smiles, through glass
and in their darkest hidden place, passion's river flows.
on and forth this pattern goes
driven by the drumming in my breast.
living on, and when its cadence slows
through the doors below the sign they'll fly
upon their domicile close,
recite their song in aether-woven cry
body lain, heart in repose.
I will always love you.
fingertips, and breath and lips
a channel for the warmth was felt
first, leafing through a digest
just across from you.
later, feet beneath a table
volumes being given labels
the power of it, rivers, rapid
flowing both ways through.
A needful fact?
That all the same, we are born of stars
Sun-forged atoms assembled to autonomy
Imperfect, however complex.
None of these assemblies
Has any right or need
To exercise dominion or death
To begin another’s decay
Giving it back to the sky and earth
Such is our own choice
Freedom is a right to breathe
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