The Missing Piece

It was always the case, I was never Valentino. No matter what chatter took me for. Sure, like you I enjoyed the duel. But barbed conversation blunts the appetite. No, my odyssey was not for conquest, or trophies for Ithaca I sought a world reflexively experienced. The siren sings, "I have long heard you in my voice.' And so, I thought you understood. This dialogical person cannot be reduced. The thought then arises. My subjective centre of being, is the knowing of you. Alas, it is too denotata for ordinary language. True friendship Is the love of rhythm and code. And all conscious experience remains shared with you. It is the mother and metaphor of all existence. Embedded, in knowing is the actual being of commitment. And conversation? It declares itself eternal, witnessing the final act. While I sit punctuating the prose of understanding………………….. And listen to your attentive silence.