What was the thing they held in common?
The earth? That always turned into distance?
Their words? Whose very incongruence made them
Believe their hearts were beating all as one?
There was an incongruence, that made them
Resist the distance, as if it didn't
Exist. Eyes extracted, breath impelled
The common understanding. Like it was life
Itself, on a dot a million miles in space,
Around which was only silence. That was
The test, to be devoured by otherness
Without once being outside oneself.
The flowers opened with such surprise.
The sun hit the leaves with exquisite glimmers.
It was easy to breathe and be at peace
With nothing needed within or without
Except an eye. They discovered themselves
In everything slipping away. And they
Were asked who they were by way of contribution.
And all that was too close turned far away.
The resultant nothingness was never an end.
There was always something, in this, that was them.
The something that was worth recovering,
Though all one saw was faces smiling back.
