When you speak to me
I briefly consider the pleasant
possibility of reincarnation
and imagine having known you
in a previous life,
and knowing
you again
in the next.
Will we be human?
Will we be on earth at all?
How many times has this happened?
Or will we become once again
as particles of the purest,
brightest light?
Unencumbered by the weight
of physical form,
to place your being into a body
seems almost like a crime.
How can I love you?
How can I even
look at you
speak to you
or oh,
my god,
touch you
when none of this makes any sense
and feels so cruel,
unfair?

How?