I remember going out there.
On a plane, a train and a boat.
So far off, yet close enough
to pin down the sea’s edge.
There I met you.
The body of the devine,
and no weight of the sacred.
Longing to slice
love into two pieces,
we rode the wall of death-
over and over again.
Soaked by ravenous water,
we rose above everything.
And our souls slept
like nocturnal flowers.
In the midst of the
abandoned sky.
A Wandering Poet 