Obstinate time, but for the seconds I see you, moving, in which your hair grows in between my fingers.
Incalculable space, but for the moments you come close, press against me and are not somewhere else.
See how the rooms in which you move,
See how the seconds in which you are near
Are everything about space, are everything about time?
We know something about the glorious dichotomy of collision,
The creation destruction of meeting the necessary other:
How universes do shrink,
How cosmos do expand exponentially.
Oh, this age-old defiance of comprehending one without the other.
Oh, this frustrating stasis of energy without explosion.
And so desiring resolve, we experiment with
Approximations like when and here and close and now,
In order to order, to make sense of sense.
And so resolving love, we express
Ideas like always and promise and forever and all. Yet,
All of them lacking the true capture of
Time ever aging,
Space ever expanding,
Love ever growing.
How slippery are these moving precious constants.
Failed by words, we look and move closer,
Taking time in this silent space,
Now suspecting the meaning of everything:
How time cannot be defined by anything except for space.
How space cannot be defined by anything except for time.
How love cannot be defined by anything except for you.
- A Poem by Muse Maria
(I saw this and wished to share.)