i held my palm
upon the side of your face.
it fits like a sky along
the curved edge of a plain.
without one, what would become of the other?
would you grow off into the universe?
touching Jupiter, licking the rays of the sun?
and the sky without ground,
would it not be a sky?
would it have no place to fit into?
would it bore itself and cease?
oh, how beautifully things grow
in your fields-- with a sky to serve you.
and the company you give unto
the lonely sky itself.
the calculation is so wonderful
this interlocking perfection
that is here as i rest my hand
on the plain that is your cheek.
listen closely to these whispers
softly singing in your presence
gather advice they scatter on your body
--like dust.
i'd take my last strength
just to close your eyes;
so i could chance the possibility
of joining you in a realm of bliss
measured only in
infinity.
