For lack of a better

You may know

that each and every night since we kissed,

that alone in my room

I imagine the night to come

when finally

unbridled by distance,

we may touch night into morning,

we may singe the binding time to ash,

we may sing a vocalise that no longer
waits to find voice

that says from one to the other

this wait,

interminable,

was merely time and space.

The universe ordains a joining begin,

demands that time and space

reveal their inherent fallaciousness

and innate need for tribute.

The universe decrees a joining begin that

arrests time and compresses space

into the finite between lips

and eyes and ears and hands and all that

may be joined and known and

that time and space are

revealed for their innate fallaciousness

and inherent need for tribute.

When once we finally touch,

all time and space

will fall away.

I am reminded

That touching you

is electric and that kissing you, in

what at this juncture

seems like another epoch,

was transcendent.

Yes, your kisses are revelatory and oracular

and tender and so necessary and

so wanted and so awaited.

The cleansing breath of your kissing

washed away the

uncertainty and childish fear of

abandonment and hurt and just plain sadness.

Sad has a reason.

Sad reminds us that we die,

reminds that because of love,

eternity is present in every breath

and that the quickening breath that is passion

is a blessing and a reminder

that love’s forms are multiple and as

inexplicable as time and space

compiled into The Universal Field Theory of Love.

What I am saying is that

I would like to ask if I may enjoy the taste of you

the touch of you and the

heart and soul of you

on a night soon,

under a moon bright or not

when this longing and desire at last become

revelatory kisses and electric touch

and for lack of a better word