everything in the physical world ages.
this is the oil of the essence of the physical,
we are born, created, exist, cease and desist
the essentials exit
and yet, the met-aphysical has,
no markers visible to the keen eye,
no surface tension to it, neither does time rough hew its edges,
or pebble age it to silken smooth water borne baby skin consistency
with uncountable tongue lickings,
and lay two stones
side by side upon the beach,
arrivistes from differing paths
so lets us count.
have we ever met?
no, we have not.
will we ever meet?
perhaps, but no one counts the random< unimaginable<accidental,
for man's plans are more destined to awry then be planned away.
but how long have we known each other?
since the sun rose this morning
and every morning before that
when it rained,
and the drops rode down the window pane, and
two drops became one,
a million millenniums before time was recognized as measurable
when the flower blossoms in the garden,
am I not the descendant of the first bee,
and will not our progeny,
so I have known you for all time
have honored you for all time
and will do so again,
when I metaphysical choose to,
in a manner unknown and yet to be
perhaps when the earth circumnavigates a distance of 365
days and nights,
or perhaps, when the need is keen and well felt,
a poem in a breeze, very well hid,
shall caress a cheek, and
that will be an honor arrived,
when next the "time" counted by heartbeats
happy birthday woman!