What does it mean when you see inside someone
Whom you’ve just met and shouldn’t be so vivid…
What is it when you react to their wavelength
And suddenly a string you didn’t know was attached to your instrument
Begins to vibrate…
With sound that won’t diminish but keeps climbing, materializing into
A startling note beyond what you knew could be played…
What does it mean when you can’t shake their presence,
Like water inside glass, that shouldn’t have gotten in but is trapped now,
Unable to expand?
What is it to be hungry for something your own mind lacks
What is it to be denied someone while being immersed in them
Trying every moment for something that shouldn’t be possible – like turning your body inside out.
It shouldn’t be possible to make your heart forget.
It doesn’t make sense that one should be hurt by awareness.
Why must people meet and pretend they don’t know each other already?
Why must people meet at all?
It would seem somehow easier to float alone in one’s capsule of thought forever, like a seed from some tropical tree, suspended in the Arctic snow, so that maybe in some future enlightened generation, it will be cared for properly.
Why must souls collide in this minefield of previous unions?
Because once long ago we were all part of each other like drops of space, particles of light–
You can’t cut an ocean in half, or a word, or a feeling
Why must I know you?
Because even now when you’re so dreadfully complacent I remember your rage exploding against armies of fire –
In a time before time before life on the sitcom –
Before we decided we weren’t a part of each other
Before… when I tried to kill you with my smile because (god forbid) it was fun to see your reaction to me trying to vanquish your all-consuming ignoring of me
And then I won because…
no wait –
I lost and I lose you again every day.
You must remember the time because I wouldn’t fight with you without prior cause
What is it to feel someone’s weight in space
To know they are in the room, feel them like radio waves
Like wind through time which cannot die
The sense one has which keeps one alive –
Like water – like ions – it’s hard to deny.
Like the beginning of everything in the universe that was created when I first blinked.
My right to love is my right to be.
And being, I love.
And loving, I live.
But living without you is hardly living.
Love is the only real truth there is.
Copyright. Lane K. Eddington. 2003
Revised September 16, 2015