When hands touch & the heart makes a bridge
Is there a circle formed that shakes & shimmies like 60s dancers
Yet never shatters into shrapnel of wasted time?
Is there a permanency beyond the temporal touch of love?
Could it be the sages & philosophers are wrong, and
The quick glimpse of magic is not just a moment in eternity,
But eternity itself?

What if none of us are passing in the night, but are docked,
Locked hard & timeless into our temporary couplings?

Perhaps the circles never die, but grow ever outward
When that stone is tossed into this changing water.

Drink of this
And think of all the dancers' eyes that still belong to your remembering,
And move in vivid creation around your periphery
Like a circle of fireflies at dusk.
Light the torches for their deep roots
That stretch into you like Oak & Maple
Like a sweet bondage
To time's end.
 

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