[3 September 2019]
We rise
somewhere between flights of fancy and
pools of desire, counting the moments between now
and fulfilment until they amount to something greater
than any one of them could ever hope to be by themselves,
a testament to longing, an icon of freedom, a
cavalcade of promise pent up and hemmed in and
broken down: a cry to see, to know,
to be, to become, to hear the sounds of
life across the distances,
a star, pointing farther
and farther on into a concept beyond what it could
ever speak for itself: a quiet glance, a holy north, wholly yours
and wholly mine.
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