I have held the dying,
have felt their life surge one last time
like a surf, have held those not even
a day old, have seen their eyes flicker
out of focus at the coolness
of this thing called air,
and I have been the dying,
held until I came back.

I have been crushed to center
and left for invisible, and played
like a sweet thing with broken strings,
and in the hush after truth is shared,
in the wake of all explanation and excuse,
in the aftermath of illusions snapped
like sticks, nothing matters now
but the instant where all I am
mounts like a wave for you,
the instant my hand parts
the air between us.

I tell you I have come so close
to death that I forgot my name
and now all names seem useless.

So nothing matters but emptying
until the softness we call spirit bubbles
through the tongue and words fail
in utter adoration. Nothing now
but this need to be... naked
in the midst of what we feel.

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