oh for the seemingly so,
beyond evidential means.
the parade of tonal sentences
without floats of common interest
or bands of contributing memory.
the celebration of mutual silences
dressed in pauses that close-mouth stare.
the dance of tonals,
that both lead and follow.
conversation making itself sacred
by its simplicity of exchange.
the content of intent
without bearing topical gifts,
just presence given
as the religion of togetherness.
moments of mutuality,
working to become
one set of eyes.
the space apart churning
as the means of etheric embrace.
the momentum of memories,
marching onward,
as if footsteps made
out of pasts,
to bring us to this,
in the wintering of now,
where sacred meets up with blessed
and there's nothing of immediacy
left to say.
just living on the perusals
as if genuine is as life support.
for we are as ships,
that pass each other in the nights,
feeling for the waves exchanged
in this sea of togetherness.
experiencing dawns and dusks
with melodies that carry no lyrics.
we as the talons of birds that pray
yet for now,
solely play with air guitars.
we make up the bother of details
without the scrabble
board of means.
we are the vowels of assonance in bloom
without the consonance of occurrences,
to language as if as physical was means
yet buffered by these impositions
of circumstance,
as wearing becomes well worn.
what topics of conversation we are
that wander off
as if kite-tails
in the breath exchanged as breeze.
such is the depths of the self
ever so,
as content revealed . . .
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