My Completion & in the Parallel Universe in Prose.
(not here?)
I never felt that feeling before. I haven't acquired that feeling from another in replacement of his essence. I've tasted the likes and the similar. They define it and begin it's spelling with an L. My description is more like some sort of eternal energy pervading the limitations that infect us in the bodies we are housed in. 'It' is all encompassing and floats glorified beyond a box , time or definition - to me.
My tangible references of him are kept in a box, kept in a purified state. A wooden one that belonged to my grandmother. I think the evidence of my past-present-future-parallel with him are safe there. I often desperately try to write him, about him, to him. More often than not I am left mute, thinking, feeling this continuous experience from a distance without words, not needing acknowledgment or affirmation. He is my song.
I feel him like art. Fertile, procreative and comforting. His distance never impedes that. I live lofty luxuries - mind like, eternal like. It wasn't always like that. I wasn't always comfortable with intangible & distance. Needy, wanting, entranced. Where we are now is comfortable and honest. Touching memories like collecting a glass menagerie. Within a light - reflectively beautiful.
He makes me feel me. Mode in me. Listening to him I recall supreme confidence, love for my presence in all it's shape, form and fullness. I feel the positive of deficiencies unanswered. I feel my physical cadence through my many manifesting dialogues with him
The only time I don't miss him is when he rest upon my gaze. But I know and I'm okay with the consistent near miss of our merge - while living life metaphored by waves on the shore of crystal blue island beaches and hurricanes. My affinity is not dependent on lifetimes, miles and minutes. He is my spark - causing fires to blaze. He is my reference - causing volumes to be written. He is my daydream whilst laying on grass green staring at silver lined clouds. He be my affinity.
There are times when it all gets murky and questionable. Without security and frivolous pawing become like breezes caught in ever transition. When his poem gets re-written in different verse yet with the same lines. When I think of him and forget our infinitum.
Yes in a parallel universe we are one, we are never lacking a need named the other. There we are supple and buoyant, silent and voiced, unconquerable by the deepest fear and fan. Simple WE exist on a blank slate as we write the equation of our future with no eraser.
I live in another dimension and have a summer home in reality. It's been that way and won't change. It is what it is and I'm cool with that. Not here yet everywhere. Constructing life in the meantime.
Seeping him still in translation of this time and space.
(to my MBBM)
as.you.wish
