You make me whole
in ways I cannot comprehend,
in ways that I am forced to keep inside
because once they are physically spoken,
it seems as if they are inadequate descriptions
of how I really feel.

You make me whole
in ways I cannot comprehend,
like how one cannot fathom
each constellation
and how every star plays its
significant role,
like how one refuses to decipher
the ringing of their guitar
as the sound fades into that of
energized atoms
which make up the air around
each vibration.

You make me whole
in ways I cannot comprehend,
in ways that are too grand
for as average a mind as mine,
although I hope to have enough time
to wrap my head around
the idea of being complete
*--if there ever comes such a day.