meeting

my fingers through your hair 

do we dare to let this

love live through us? 

from days before time 

became history, 

to the present in your 

endless eyes, 

i cannot stand before the 

revelation of this primal 

mystery 

without you. 

in this aging frame i 

preserve the living past, 

held fast before your 

endless eyes, 

between the fingers of 

our gentle hands

beneath this tree of 

meeting

promise me

promise me I'm more than the ghost 

of your desiring heart, 

your true love 

in all the worlds we've ever lived, 

the gaze of an inner eye 

transfixed upon the shape of 

my existence,

then life would not be lived in

strained vanity, 

a dust mote in beams of 

splendid light

without shadow or gravity, 

is such love possible 

beyond ideas and 

good intentions? 

January 1, 2026

I'm still waiting