Through a space devoid of light, through a silence thick as fog
and a chasm that in memories and years expands as far
as the distance between these words and each breath you draw tonight,
I reach you.
Without words to use as constructs for the rush and force of instinct
that the blood inside me tries to pump out of my conscious mind,
I send you a simple message, without form and without structure,
that I know will get there faster than even the speed of light.
For it is my sheer conviction
in that pure reflexive property of love that I believe in, that makes me not hope but *know*
that this wordless, formless message reaches you before it leaves me every instant I exist.
And no matter how I try to sit here feeling like an ape,
trying to explain the process by which we communicate,
only you and I know the level of approximation I can reach with prose and wit,
and how though a valiant effort,
it’s not even in close quarters to the truth that springs forthwith.
From your mind to mine and sparked from my skin to yours,
a reality is born unlike the harsh crude surface of a world in flames,
a construct built on the better pieces of myself,
resonating within you in a beautiful symphony that could drown the noise of doubt
and end the disquiet in my soul I once thought to be inherent.
Such is the lesson I’ve learned from looking at the surface of your calm blue sea.
