Often we long for a place to call home,
and a sense of the real and the true,
on our way to realms as yet unconquered,
to a vision shared by me and you.

But alas by each other we pass,
for there can be said nothing new,
vanish in smoke yet still ignite fire,
this pyre has long burnt in lieu.

Once we lay upon fertile ground,
from which shoots flourished and grew,
again around without a sound,
chances to nourish are few.

A humble start within the soup,
in an endless cauldron now stew,
the ocean of us cannot boil over,
and steam returns as dew.

Drenched by the falling cascades,
our ship lacking captain and crew,
wondrous oneness of sea and sky,
a singular flavor of blue.

We arrive from far and wide,
gusting winds unto taught sails threw,
a congregation with no destination,
now crammed in this circular pew.

Time is the greatest deceit,
forever the widest view,
through prisms emerge vibrant color,
a rainbow perfection of hue.

I see you there as you see me,
entangled by glances askew,
emptiness shared by the light in silence,
longing still for a clue.