When We Least Expect

Love, one of the most beautiful things
we'll know during our years on earth
weaves like ether
through the years of our lives
until it catches up to us.

Or perhaps more like a silken sash
that draws near on a cold wind
wrapping around our neck
when we least expect.

The last days of our lives
are beaming gold
but Love is a piercing Light
that turns our tired mind
toward a direction beyond time.

After decades have dispersed
and we feel Love went on without us
it will approach regardless
rising slowly as a ghost
from past experience.

Our veins will pulse
we'll smell the incense,
as frankincense and myrrh
wavering off its soul.

It'll flash a smile,
innocence and knowing combined,
soft submission, brutal rebellion
and holy-purple poison in one.

A rare wildflower that blooms
with untamed madness
through a desert's marrow bones,
or water lilies spinning out of control
their roots fastening our nerves.

It bears the same features
as our lovers before
except this time crystal clear—
intact and unapologetic
about the intrusion at so late an hour.

Its bright eyes are almost unbearable,
and will be impossible to call a stranger.

No, it's a tribal stream blood brother,
past life lover, seer, soul twin, mirror—
anything but a lone stranger.

It will request submission
to the pinion hidden underneath its wing.
Our tongue, knotted until then
will innately unfurl a "Yes"
beyond our control.  

Because seeing it will be like seeing ourselves
in a crowded lift of time
screeching upward
on ancient cables of existence—
the halo of its voice beaming
as its wing folds over us
saying

"Hey. . .I finally got you."