It has been recorded on surveyor's maps
that Mount Everest, standing 29,028 feet tall,
is the highest point on the face of the earth.

Still, when you were here,
I could see its snow covered peaks below me.

It has been recorded on oceanographer's dials
that the deepest depths of the Pacific
lie 35,820 feet below sea level
and that it takes a one pound metal ball
63 minutes to fall to the bottom.

Still, on the day you left,
I stretched high but yet
could not touch that metal ball
at the end of its plunge.

It has been recorded on astronomer's charts
that the remotest heavenly body
visible to the naked eye
is the Great Galaxy in Andromeda
known as Messier 31;
2,120,000 light years away.

Still, since you have been gone,
as I reach out to grasp your hand
during moments of forgetfulness,
the east coast might as well span
twice the light years to Andromeda.

Indeed, though the distance between us
may at times seem unbearable,
the nearest one in my universe is you.

This has been recorded in my heart.