knowing is not our essence gained

for here we are,

imaginatively dealing 

with this body of water,

as if one was shape-carving 

out a block of ice,

or artfully chainsaw imaging 

the shapeliness

of a large chunk of tree.

even though, 

it is still a lifetime of growth away. 

right now, in a seeding stage, 

but ever growing,

or feeling impacted, 

by a thunderous rainstorm,

out of a clear sky currently presenting.

for an eventual to appear, 

that is yet, 

three days away.

fancy, breathing in air 

that is recognized

as one's breath, 

from lifetimes ago,

or basking in the warmth of a fire

from wood chopped out of a forrest

that hasn't yet been grown,

or being that canvas of stationary repose,

for a paint that is still in its container, 

with hopes, 

to eventually come to land right here,

as if we are its permanent showcase home,

or to be a rubber tree's desire,

to be racing down a highway, 

that hasn't yet been built,

or to be the hourglass of a sky,

where grains are gloriously released as pigeons, 

then let out to defy gravity and fly,

or to be the bedcovers being folding back,

on an ocean beach of a bed, 

as the waves happening, 

are as if the blankets of the turndown occur,

or to be land 

basking in a graceful embrace,

of leaves, that haven't fallen

from trees, that haven't yet been planted.

here, even as we gaze upon each other, 

as a tranquil pool,

we will come again as rain, 

meeting each other as drops,

closely sharing the same sky, 

with the commonness of our simultaneous falling,

then the splash and the liquidity, 

as we are again, 

as togetherness of being.

breath me in,

as a fragrant scent, 

from a flower that hasn't bloomed,

in a garden that you haven't yet planted.

for we are intimately, tirelessly, 

in the next moment,

that never arrives.

we are destined to never be,

an experience in passing, 

to each other.

in our essence, 

we will never materialize, 

however we are ever thought-provoked.

as we each live within,

each other's most thoughtful grasp.

for we are the absence of a ballroom floor,

before, during, and after

we mindfully dance.

we are our lifetime of the air we breathe.

for staring back, 

into the wondrousness of each other's eyes.

we become a faceless mirror to the other,

of each other's inner consequence.

but no thought of ours is of that other.

for that only represents

from where we truly live in the beyond. 

where knowing of the other from there,

can only be catching a glance.

we share memory,

at the fertile surface and edge, 

on melting snow,

on the journey to the evaporative,

as our final act out entry.

for we were once,

each others emotionally clad artistic tears.

and now we come to register in refrain.

our experiences cleaver our oneness,

yet however grand our knowing, 

it is not this,

of now 

but our essence gained . . .