What is my pact, today,
with you?
We cannot do what won’t engage the twoof us in something just as close as it can be
to ecstasy – and not just some banal variety
of blast: the thing we choose must last,
which is to say must meet the test of passing
through, beyond, into that realm in which
a soul might find companionship. Or should
we just abandon ship and swim our solo ways
to separate shores? Ah, but don’t forget:
there are no laws: no distance and no future
and no past and every time we think
that we escape, some new divinity hauls
back her haloed head and laughs. As if there
were a ship, or shore! Here’s the only word
that says whatever I know, boy-o: more.
.
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