Turning The Universe Inside Out With The Ravenousness Of Our Aching Hearts

 
1.
The rivulets of water
pool at our wondering feet.

Vibrant moss cushions the dark event horizons
that unceremoniously yank us inward
like lost children finally found.

Haphazard flight paths of insects
spasmodically surge nearer,
urging our own hands and eyes to react,
and somehow in the reflexiveness
of those twin human movements
both of us realize that the Now
we currently share cannot surpass
the devastating chasm that the earthquake of Us
has inevitably opened up.

Azure firelight flickers above,
memories of tears and bare skin kisses
descend like drunken leaves from distant peaks.

Somewhere below us a sea of mycelium flourishes,
communicating in the language we wish we'd possessed long ago,
pheremones of instinctual gravity networked to perfection,
something to smooth out all the crags and crevices
of our rambunctious emotional landscapes,
transmogrifying the immutable selfishness of mammals into purposeful,
harmonious intent.

2.
Still,
we kiss without restraint,
staring down the shattered remnants
of our romantic souls like hungry predators.

Rivulets of water
pool at our wondering feet.

Vibrant moss cushions the dark event horizons
that unceremoniously yank us inward
like lost children finally found.

And for an precarious instant we are one,
suspended on the ripe cliff's edge,
and not giving a damn whether or not we fall
into the ominous depths below.