It is an epic. It is unfinished. So there is this…
Inevitably, my name will be spoken
On the undercurrent of every love line, and
Every syllable of speech unspoken of things on the mind,
Echoes from his heart.
We collided, smashing this dimension
Into a million sparkling pieces
And rebuilt, me within him, him within me, one eternally.
We are the foundation.
If you read him
And smell a woman’s tongue
It was mine that refined his poetry.
If you mark me as patient
It was him that made me practice.
If he is forgiving, I helped force his hand to loving human faults (often).
This rhythm in my feet
He sings for.
That vivacity in his fight
I kiss into his heart.
We are the exact balance,
The well timed push and pull,
Him perfectly flawed for me
And my flaws perfected to him.
This is love –
This is the universe exacted,
A microcosm of everything in beauty,
The grandest view of the world.
He called it kesmet,
(We never doubted)
And it’s been nothing less.
This doesn’t end;
That we don’t need promise,
That we don’t control,
That was, is, always, forever, and beyond.