Each
of us, with our lit candle,
how
we do tiptoe around the others of us
in
the dark dream-closeness of each night?
What
great thoughts have we shared,
stolen
away from being closeted in books?
What
emotions of ours have passed
beneath
that place within each of us
that
we fill with constant gaze?
What
light was shed from our shared words,
when
our barnacles of wisdom are laid bare
accessible
to others of out emotive water, openly?
How
many thoughts of the others
do
we take out for a long walks
in
the lucidity of our awakeness in dreams?
What
part of us is sippable
into
our afternoon warm-us-up tea,
that
in the tasting, we find each other
fully
present, there to be?
Are
we the harmonics of soul
by
these same breaths
in
the tent of nearness we make around us
that
we inadvertantly breathe?
What
of us that slips inside of what we notice
that
is only at the rim
of
our future lives of shared intimacy?
What
size tiptoe do you make of yourself,
to
live into the blessedness
of
your own light of lucidity . . . ?
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