Reciprocity
Alone,
and riding its momentum
out across the chasm
of an unreflecting void,
is Voyager,
its waning, hopeful beep
an act of faith; there lies within,
a particle of us--
ready to embrace the one
who looks inside.
It is a shell of nothingness
without a dream to nourish its long night,
a worthless orb of metal
in a cold black sky,
hope thrown into a phantom alien hand
unseen, unguided, yet unknown to God,
a Flying Hollander condemned
to yet another seven year eternity.
Still not a journey,
no, not yet--a vanity,
until it meets its purposed end.
So, too, is love impossible,
a non-reality, a formula alone
until it is returned.
Like Voyager, its effort laudable,
like stick to fire, indifferent
until it's burned.
And he, without a lover
will not understand:
We do not fall in love--
we love, are loved;
create and are created--
know, and then are fully known.
~
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