In a star shot snap everything changed in an ambiguous way.

The white scar left across the unfeeling universe faded
like the memory of first love, like the inadequacy of words
frustrated into touch.

And those souls lapping away at sudden physical attention
paused in the absence of pure intimacy,
the nearness of another life force dissolving
and erupting into light.

Your blurred morning finger:
sometimes I feel like I can lose you in contemplations.
And then the wound: "I want to be fully at ease
with the idea of you and me."

and then in passing

Ideas, long overdue theories of a bygone era
populated by sun burnt faces digging into the earth
pulling out roots and then afterwards planting seeds
for a season which will determine the rest of our lives.

They feel removed from here
those laborers,
alien to the warm lap of summer
leaning against a modern city hitting brick steel glass.

and then in passing

as we travel
along a darkened road
you turn,
"I want this to last."