Conquest

...And then they speak of un-translatable conquests, Though my face looks so much like your face And our voices can get caught and surprised in mutual, glancing harmony Over and over and then something else always occurs. That altering conquest Where the thing called "love" is pushed aside For a shinier jewel, Where your face is definitively strange And you become the "other," And our union waits for the reunion; And they keep speaking of it in warping language, Salted from life's breathe, Because we all learn as we go, Finally finding that all rivers flow to the sea, All conquests being the one multitudinous leap Into that tongueless all-glowing haze Where love bleeds into mouths. Skinless and earthless we receive and Exhale ancient space. The space of permanent peace.