A Poem For Sp

The tiny hole in my sweater that is what I have become, The empty space there where I am lost to you and you search and beseech me with queries Unanswerable even to infinite space I am the emptiness there as your tongue searches for the pain of a lost tooth, probing and delighted to find a tinge of pain each tuck And akin to cohesion tension theory I glide up to you against the forces of nature, paradoxically the same nature that mesmerizes and energy flows between us like a mesmeric magnetized chain, As we courageously compared mythologies, struggling against terrific tides of dissonance and discord between language and origins of myth we wriggled like bugs on pins, Here at this juncture in this time and place on this planet in this space I have seen his face The hero with a thousand faces.