In the moment of reckoning
or nemesis, I call you
from the clouds.

It was a poetic
whisper, no rectification. Only
different versions of truth.

The maverick will not
take it as a personal slight,
if you are preparing a premature
exit.

Can we undo the damage
and become friends?
Unuttered, but still vocal.

Who was talking
of eternity? Your love
was Being. Nothing else matters.

Metaphysically you become
abstract. I will draw
the unseen other for me.