When I am with you,

so close that I become you --


I sing myself out.

If a bell tolls...
For whom, is a lover known?
Threshold to act upon weary eyes, oh you soul
The creation we find, in void moments sown...

A rue of compassion
The till in evidential hills
Sun and wine, to tell a tale to promises lasting...
A herald of simple gifts and rises of poise, will

Lovers to the end
Exactly need, in voice's portrayal
And seeking guidance for a named lip, here is mend
In the scope of distance and reality of a soul

Succinctly new?
And with sense's favors, to claim a richness of good...
In the speed we accredit to love, is worth a filial who?
Seeing the gesture bloomed, is fate acts or paces, new?

Heed me when the holiday is over, lover
Might's to consider a whole, if a liberty is to be
The thought of romance, is a changing season, meant dour
In the shared seldom, of when a passion has it, to lead...

A fruit of conscience
A hap of solace, predestined to same
A reason of couth, to collect a hardier presence
A wish of blessing the best you have to often, and the patience of fame

inside me are organs
inside my cells are organelles
inside me are organelles
they are mine
they are me

they are composed of atoms
they are composed of protons, neutrons, electrons
protons are mine
they are me
neutrons are mine
they are me
electrons are mine
they too are me
electrons and mitochondria and kidneys
are me
I am me

bone comprises skeleton
marrow comprises bone
bone and skeleton are me
marrow too is me
I feel this in my self
I feel this in my bones
bone feels this in my marrow
bone and I share marrow

There is a self
that is my self
but not just mine
it is us all
and in that all
I will meet you

“Why is your flute so tiny
and all?”,
said the Willow to the little boy
“Maybe cos my song
is low and light
and my fingers
are so small”

“Why’s your arms
so stretched up high”
asked the boy looking up
“Maybe to send your tune,
past clouds and sky,
that resonates from my stump”

So together it dawned
the day they joined
spreading  the sweetest sound
The one who sits small,
with one standing tall
Together, reached heaven
from the ground

Thinking always brings everyone to a common level.
Thinking is the communist of mysticism.
It is a pool of common feelings.
Thinking makes one equal to all creatures.
Every atom is regarded the same.
And so thinking unites existence.

I see you, o wintry wind
I feel you, my pale autumn sky
I hear you, my pain within
I heed you, o freedom cry

I hug you, o falling star
I smell you, my wide-eyed youth
I fear you, my friend from afar
I love you, my bitter truth

15 xi 22