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