Bonded

When breathing starts to slow after the peak, lovers think of things missed in the rapture. In each other's arms the answers they seek are disclosed in truths they did just capture. They know they have enacted in equal share the birthing hurting, rejoicing, and dying. There in love's nest the cosmos is laid bare, it was defined 'ere sleep ended their sighing. Scholars wrestle with wherefores and whys airing theories in many an erudite journal. But true lovers look into each other's eyes to fathom what is real, true, and eternal. (One of my older poems posted on another site.)