When our love was a nascent thing – force barely thrust,
We were already locked in the place of our trust.
Though our fusing was fresh, in its first flaming phase,
Each was merged – melded full – with the other one’s ways.

We did circumvent Nature’s immutable law,
Which invests us at onset with one tender flaw –
Inexperience. We, in the strength of our bond,
Overstepped our beginning for what was beyond.

When our love was a growing thing – power in action,
We knew it was potent – yet only a fraction
Of what it would be, and though vehement, vital,
Would reach to a place sans description or title.

We walked far away from the lovers of locus
Who search for the limits, a place for their focus.
Articulate – what? Love’s ineffable growth?
One could sooner stop time. Vanquish sadness. Or both.

Now our love is a wild thing – bucking, untethered
An aged – but a child thing – naked yet feathered
A flying thing taking us – somewhere. Unknown.
And we scarce can absorb all the places we’ve flown.

Ere we’re off in the stratosphere – higher and higher,
So close to the sun we are singed by its fire,
But learning – the constant thing. Love as our mother.
Hand of the one on the heart of the other.


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