A split division of time traversing distance, A minds inability to commute, conjures resistance, But the soul craves truth, is insistent…
Now, is a concept of time rooting us to a moment, the past as we breathe air into lungs deflating before the present has a chance to conceive Plausibly creating moment of movement, so we may believe.
But, I can map a Constellation of me to you, you to me, Measure it in miles, seconds, oceans, hours, you see? and then perceive such a chasm of space, physically.
Seven Russian dolls sitting on a shelf A vortex of reality each within themselves The past, the future, dimensions to delve.
Perception splits into uniformed understanding, Group saving elicit pedigrees of knowledge on post it notes without the sticky banding.
I perceive movement through the decaying of life, rotting atoms of time losing this fight But beauty is in the ancient, the essence of life. And rebirth calls on spring whispers, always new light.
Stack the dolls in a black hole of despair Merge linear perceptions, viewing to share, and now becomes everything, yet, never quite there. Nothing, all, void, everything… Space we now share.
Space we now share, kinetic vibrations a pendulum swings dispersing sedation Time, distance, miles and oceans have no relation, In chiming sequence of tolling bells A moments space, a moments realisation.
No distance, miles, seconds or otherwise, Just two beneath the glittered skies A moment captured, paused and stilled together, now, nothing, everything and all, Time conceptualised in beats of seconds moving hands and changing dates…
…and there between the beats I found you, here but there… Here, together through the shared sense of now… There, seconds, miles, hours and oceans. Not here, not there… But somewhere.
I read once that it’s only love if you can list all the reasons why, otherwise it is simply biology, a response that with time will fade.
… and so I ponder when it was that love became a checklist of necessities and where on that list I should write that together we laugh like hyenas, contagiously giggling.
Further to this thought, when did love become a collection of data; a spreadsheet of positives, the five year plan of our futures, and is this the place where I should mention that I believe we have lived many futures, together, already?
I read once that we should consider love with our rational mind, so I consider the vagus nerve and your intrinsic understanding of her, I can comprehend the rise and even the fall, yet thought is without physical form, are we not told, that which we can not see or touch does not exist? Yet this we both know is not true, so where in my list should I write that I taste your essence at point of implosion.. Explosion?
I read once that it’s only love if you can list all the reasons why, otherwise it is simply biology…
I think Samuel Johnson Jr failed me in offering so few words…. for I could surely form a new dictionary based solely on my reasons why.