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What Couldn’t Be Otherwise

Bestow it pearltimes does
the outstretched musical score
of the velvet indigo sky, few stars,
a fleeting feeling that somewhere out there,
or somewhere nearer than near,
we’re laughing, we’re celebrating,
we love each other – and openly –
as loving mothers and daughters,
as loving fathers and sons,
as lovers whom nothing, no one can obstruct.
Sometimes a silence blazes the blessing,
carves it on a patch of grass or swaying tree,
this feeling: we love each other
and it never could be otherwise –
though countless ideas and beliefs
and time descend upon our eyes,
though we seldom talk anymore,
though you are companions, countries away,
though maybe, yes, you’ve closed the door.
While we suffer here, prone to anger, fear,
mistrust, other poisons, obscurations,
the velvet indigo sky has me feel
all these are untrustworthy, are unreal.
What’s real is our celebration, your eyes,
and our love which couldn’t be otherwise.

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