We Speak

Keep the lines of communication open,
the heady wine of old wisdom decanted
into a fresh new flask designed along
creatively modern lines of sleek steel, the
old finely-cut crystal decanters too fussy,
ornate, extravagant, when the simple and
direct has the functional role of immediate
retrieval of ideas and impressions conveyed.

The elegance and strength of the mode
and language of an earlier era however, still
lingers. Among those, like us, who have
possession of memories whose tender tendrils
reflect that time, plangent descriptions of
pure emotions drop like faceted jewels
whose glittering beauty reflects the light of
invincible belief in sharing, love, life, joy,
laughter and care describing all that
matters between us, the sum of our being.

You speak to me in words, tones of
recalled events, music, flavours. And you
speak to me in gentle motion and movements,
grasping my shoulders, lifting my chin,
extending your hands, gazing with the depth
of emotive dimensions only those who have
travelled long and far together would recognize.

When you see me bemused or pensive,
deep in thought or irresolute, your inevitable
response a smile in which resides love without
end. That caring benevolence cures and
elevates beyond care and concern toward
an enveloping nimbus of solicitude.

As for me, I find no need to relieve myself
of mere words to inform you of what is readily
evident in observing how my eyes search the
assurance of your face, my ears the solace
of your voice, my flesh the warmth of your
tactile sensuality. To speak, to form the words
simply dispels the ephemerality of illusion, for
although we are indeed as one, we are yet apart.

Our symbiosis there, observable, tenderly
prevailing. But the essence of our being, our
tandem need stretches far beyond the horizon
of the span of lovers' devotion as we imagine one
another's unknown thoughts, thinking they are
our own through the perpetuity of twinship.