Perfect Storm

waterspout

Companion of the whirlwind … perfect friend well met …

Do I not know your face … here in its own reflection … created from the chaos of a random universe … yet nurtured by design …

We circle round … and touch but little … feeling at the edges to find ourselves … outside ourselves …

As though scent were a feeling … an instinct to desire … so consumed by the all consuming knowledge of a long sought other … that breath catches in the throat … anticipating catastrophe …

We know the inevitable end of things … the existential point of a mind and its meaning … as the meeting of that mind … in its separate parts … no longer parted …

As though two hurricanes crossed at sea … the very point of no return … that makes all reasons … live out their grandest duet …

As perfect storm …

Touch me love … but once … and feel life move … as it was meant to …

And in that bright destruction … know the light at last …

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