Sunday, November 23, 2008

Without Touching

Your words still touch me,
turn my thoughts toward you,
inspire dreams and phantoms,
writhings against the night,
gasps into the rising dawn,
melting under the warmth of the sun.

Rapture at your hands—untouched,
ages apart, universes between,
momentary creatures caught in infinity,
sliding across time, space, lives, and selves
to reach one into the other
infinities overlaying each other
without ever touching again.

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