Whence did this start and end and begin
like a fledgling, a cub, a story retold
as if the narrative just fills my ears,
my glands, my cells, my blood vessels
even if the billion stars were just the embodiment
of a divine grace that survived time and extinction!
I had a knowledge every time I was child
Would they be whispers of a timeless magnanimous soul?
The book was never opened, but the soul believed
that loss has no rancour but a singular patience,
when love itself repeats the story, that the constant
loss is never an indication of defeat. If you could
bring the stars back to me like flowers of a season
And I’d feel the suddenness of your heartbeat
just as I felt it for all eternity and in every tear,
and every word, and every passion that stilled
my soul. That I would think where do we go from here?
And I would look up to the sky and never ask the question
That I would feel the answer in your resounding silence
Like a fragrance that can die but still persist within
a soul that seems mortal but lives in eternity. That I must
fashion a baton exchange between father and son
and son and father, in every generation that witnesses
a love so profound between the actors that none
can pause such continuum, when the open sesame
takes place without my sperm, and immaculate conception begins
another term, in a triangle between two lovers and son!
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