ousia

it is not
the distance
nor silence

the space
between
here and
there

I
or
you

last year
or
the next

it is
tenderness
shared
between
your heart of iron
and mine
of the trees

it is the drumming
of our wild and amorous veins
calling in the darkness
for journey
for dream

where the edge
of each world
blossoms
unto
new and mysterious wings