and it is.
flying through the city beside a broken angel we scribed an ornate 'G' of some fifty miles and dined together on ambrosia atop the matterhorn.
so, i rededicate this poem to jill.
and this painting expresses what i knew even when i was fifteen… that men and women complement each other.love is a kind of congruence.
There are seven distances between us
The length of a bowshot can be miles
You are Diana, the huntress
Full of strength and reserve
You are closer when you're miles away
And in my thoughts and heart.
Sure, I deserve to be showered with kisses
And my child will glow with gratitude
And give full measure to a surfeit in return
Then mingling senses
Leavened awareness, rise above the world
In a mixture of melody and rhyme
Of fragrant form and sweet surrender
now in the domain of gods
a vast and endless experience
yes, the blasts of poignant love
forms crystals in the body of the soul
That we might revive our faith
Those mysteries unknown abound
To save us from a selfish fate
And tragedies divined in time
Played out with a crisp intelligence
Intrepidly with honor and the prize…
Our love transforms our natures
And burns to ashes the cruel disguise