To Be Loved

What has this life demanded of us,
That we cannot recognize, in an instant,
When ourselves are ourselves, again, met?
It happens, despite death - perhaps because of it,
Knowing that that word - death - is one we have made,
Mocking that which made us, even beyond ourselves,
Being more than ourselves, having Promised.
We can only breathe, and touch, thinking;
Or, barring that, or beyond that, speak to the other;
Sing to the other;
Form words for the other;
So that they speak as we would have them speak,
Having formed the answers in our heads
A thousand, thousand times.
Then, robbed of the corporeal enclosures of each other, for the moment,
We are simply
Thought of, and Known
Completely.
We weep, and smile, refreshed; aggrieved, relieved.....perceived.
It is then we understand the dust, blown into Being, at last, from Love.
Oh, Love, Love!
What a love, needing more!
What a song, and a Joy, and a sudden calm!
It is rare, when we know vessel, are of Vessel, perceive Vassal, are of a Cup,
and yet, can be, and Be, and .....exist.
Filled with this Sense, we are calm, and Fierce, and loved
In the mists of uncertainty which cloud the forlorn and angry,
Having known nothing beyond
Atom, given its moments with great Care, and treasuring them in this Life, as never before.
.