Two broken beings,
I won’t say souls – those remain whole
through time, place, twists, turns,
land at the strangest beige place
find each other
where echoes of masterworks speak and names leap off the page
and the pull towards one begins.
They seem to speak
it’s more singing and tongues
with uncanny ease
talking of fire and the tinkling of silver
but soon discover
soon is so relative, time is elastic
they know the same language
arcane, cryptic, part hieroglyphic.
No translation is needed
between their two breastbones.
They speak with eyes, sighs, touch
fitting impossible fits
bringing forth goodness befitting,
(this is high geometry here)
gods of another galaxy.
Is their They a deep healing
of unspoken wounds and genetics
for each other, for the world?
Wholeness is powerful no matter
Or is the end result so pure in itself
this is where that fancy word belongs
that it’s good for good’s sake, art for art’s?
Inspired by a story about “Once” I heard on NPR this morning.