I Want You To Know This

You really should know how things are, watching the moon wax and wane only to wax again and seasons change one to the next as in some small ways do I, when I place my hand in the cold ash where once a consuming fire carried sparks to the heavens a palpable substance remains, a lingering aroma pungent and steeped in tears hopes, laughter and fears; you may think it mad this well of feelings that believed yours destined for mine. Where the sun seeks and climbs to your lips it seeks mine too repeating all in me where nothing was extinguished or forgotten while my roots have set off to seek another land.