I promise him next lifetime.
He escapes me in this one.
Love wears no dimension,
and I’ve already fallen
for his present; knowing
nothing of his yesterdays,
except…
they were imperfect without me.
Sharing only a seventh sense;
our belonging is beyond intuition.
His presence would be indulgent.
Ghosts in waiting –
our spirits haunt each other,
feeling the fruition of all things
imperfectly splendid
merging together
in our inevitable future.
These paths and planes and distant steps
seem disparaging; only, they are
intricately aligning our souls.
One day, we’ll be introduced
in the form of pure light,
and we’ll create
a moment in existence
which shadows anything of the past
and everything in the future.
Arrival is coming.
Don’t rush.
I’m patient.