There's a special kind of love
In the shared communion of common experience--
In the joy of knowing that this person, too
Gets it.

"It" being the unholy,
The divine,
The understanding of the fleeting moment.

There's a special kind of love
in sending that article you thought they'd find interesting,
or that song lyric you heard in the subway that reminded you of them.

There's love in the familiar
In the vestigial memories that haunt us
On the outskirts of our daily lives.

You were here, too.
You breathe this air, too.
You know me, too.

In Zulu, one greets another with
"Sawubona."
"I see you."

And the response--
"Ngikhona."
"I am here."

Recognition ignites existence.
I see you.
You are here.