We stand, separated by dozens of hundreds,
Crowded together, pebbles on the rivers' shore,
Jostling for space to breathe.

We stand, and the dozens of hundreds become dozens,
and then none. The cutouts crumble, the wax figures melt,
The space between us is clean and clear.

Your eyes find mine, and mine yours.
The centuries unreel behind us, and ahead.
We see every life we've ever known.

There is a movie that plays in the spaces,
In the moments when our eyes meet before us,
And it is epic and endless.

No words. No motions. No gestures.
Our eyes are our language, our secret language,
And none but we can translate.

You and I are removed from the smallness,
And the thousand scurryings of tanned limbs
Crying to fill the cracks.

We are alone, you and I,
And everyone we ever were or
Ever will be inhale at once.

Please, don't look at me.
I'm working, writing, emptying my
Thoughts onto paper.

You stand at the window,
And the World outside looks back
In wonder.

Layers of reality peel away,
Under your gaze, and the World is left naked.

If you turn to me,
The machinery of thought will stop,
And I will become mindless.

Please, look at me.
Feed my spirit with the stars
That pulsate in your eyes.

The minutiae of process
Is pointless under the power
Of your eyes.

The lines of our hands are pieces
Of a puzzle that can only be assembled
Once

The lines of our hands are wires
Vibrating to be twisted together
Once

When your hand touches mine,
Just a touch to begin, the pieces fall
Once

When your hand touches mine,
The wires scrape softly in spark
Once

Our hands are burnished brass,
Waiting to be softened to liquid
Once

Fingers don't interlace,
Because there is no need
Once

Lines in flesh merge;
Roadmaps to destinations on
The Horizon

One hand on another, contact is joined
And all of the circuits connect.
A new life is born.

Jesus looks down in awe,
Of a miracle he'd forgotten
Once