Trees on the move
Lights standing in the shadows they cast
Books forever in flux
A bottomless supply of life
These are all lesser ways
of comparing the marvel
of your supermassive
acknowledging the eventuality
of touching mine
Corpses what cannot rot
Breaths unceasingly shared
Songs now sung by an other
A map full of inaccessible Edens
We are told no by these
separating boxes of bedrock
—their deafening wails of, “IMPOSSIBLE!”
But I refuse to accept that,
from now until never
Glass without sand
Desire without temptation
Blood without bodies
Definitions without words
When the crude lust in me
has flooded your emaciated veins
with dopamine, at longest last,
our eyes will be left seeing
the same truth:
that it doesn’t have to be reasonable
—not even to us—
in order to be worth trying for
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