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Poem

How is it that I know your eyes?
	That I understand
		the language
			of your spirit?

Yet
	We are discovering each other
		in this moment
	for the first time. 

Within how many lifetimes
	have we met?

What is the number counted
	for how often
		our hands
			have reached to dance?

Hands of strangers
	upon first meeting
	however known
		across the expanse 
			of incarnations – once touched.

Lips that speak
	of silent forever’s 
		adrift together
	among the seasons.

A knowing 
	beyond names ever spoken
		save the two that reside
	in each others hearts.

You are the desert flower
	I am the rain
		fallen
			upon scorched ground
		in search of yearning pedals
	that I may be
		consumed. 

~

It is the rain
	that drinks of the flower
		absorbed 	
	in its radiant beauty.

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