I want my every lingering or zapping touch,
deep stare,
conscious step,
labored breath
and my given-over body
to be an engaging,
peppered kiss
to both My Lover
and the Universe’s matters
proclaiming
“I see you.
I love you.
I give myself to you solely
and you solely to me.
We’re each other now
and never to give one’s self away
to another being.
I’m done and made,
ready with you.”
An oath.
Vision of a gift and moment to come
for which My Heart will last and last
till it shall be fulfilled.
A bow of teary,
from loving,
respect

In freedom,
madness of beauty,
I love all and nothing,
every member of the space surrounding, so much
and extendedly
that I come to tears,
my physical demonstration of overconscience.
I am truly and on all the planes
a Lover.

Do you see, grasp in the nowhere and nowhen
the whole picture?
Register the tedious highs, lows, widths and breadths
before your private, iridologic rainbows?
Like grasping the rims of “allness” on the path of a forest,
letting yourself grow a vertigo, fragile and docile.
Every, every time you meet up with a person,
do you encompass in your grasp, mind’s eye, all they are, all they are,
at that one very time?
My vision dims out into dependence, when glasses leave, when the forest my attendance seeks
in utter loneliness without my harmony with it weaved.
I no longer have in survival advantage
but it feels more than right to fall, give over,
I give myself fragile, more just, and fit.
In that vulnerability I can see more than
a healthy eye can: Van Gogh’s work on my trees’ leaves.
That is what all presences, forms and life’s skies are for:
fragileness, undoneness, nothingness, reasonlessness