She got it

Talk about the physical
as if the physical was the path
way to a place
of memory
the only memories worth keeping
are the ones kept:
delved into the spiritual
lyrically possessing my
soul in intrinsically
sophisticated ways
wrapping me up
genuinely innocent of
all desire
but desiring to return.
Nights spent
by waterfalls waiting for the sun to rise
camping trip
that literally tripped
and the rescue from the cold
up till 4 am
or was it since then?
I can only remember the discussion
from nations to relations to
God and Goddesses abounding
in the realm of the living
and the dead
The walk on the beach
after the stars went to bed.
Sure, there are a few
moments of oblivion
the redecoration of a room
unnoticed until
after a storm
but what got me was not
the physical
not the taunting of it
the promise of it
the movement of it
nor the hint of it
the writing of it
but the time spent meaningfully
without it.
She got it…
and then got me.


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