I see me when I see you.
I hear your words and they might be coming from my mouth.
I can feel your thoughts because I think them too.
And there is this knowing.
It is a knowing like no other and it is one that cannot be worded.
The silence speaks so profoundly that my ears can hardly bear to hear it all.
And my heart can scarce dare to believe it, but it is there.
So may we simply let our bodies move in silence and never speak a word again?
It is not needed.
Because you are here with me always. Within my own words and gestures.
I have no fear to grasp for your hand,
for it is no stranger than it would be to grasp my own.
I think I may begin to see beauty again.
The magic of every cell and atom, each color and curve.
The strange shapes and movements that curl about our existence.
The infinitely small details that define our moments, our understandings.
So when I feel you I feel me but I feel everything about me from the tips of my toes to the specks that litter the night sky and the branch that hangs over the doorway and drips dew on some mornings softly onto the patch of dirt besides the walkway up to your front door.
It is all within one touch, and yet it is all across eternity.
Each instant is intertwined with infinity, a small part of the forever.