Reciprocity

Alone, and riding its momentum out across the chasm of an unreflecting void, is Voyager, its waning, hopeful beep an act of faith; there lies within, a particle of us-- ready to embrace the one who looks inside. It is a shell of nothingness without a dream to nourish its long night, a worthless orb of metal in a cold black sky, hope thrown into a phantom alien hand unseen, unguided, yet unknown to God, a Flying Hollander condemned to yet another seven year eternity. Still not a journey, no, not yet--a vanity, until it meets its purposed end. So, too, is love impossible, a non-reality, a formula alone until it is returned. Like Voyager, its effort laudable, like stick to fire, indifferent until it's burned. And he, without a lover will not understand: We do not fall in love-- we love, are loved; create and are created-- know, and then are fully known. ~