I’ll not write again
things a young man
thinks, not the words
of that feeling.
There is no world
except felt, no
one there but
must be here also.
If that time was
echoing, a vindication
apparent, if flesh
and bone coincided–
let the body be.
See faces float
over the horizon let
the day end.
So well sculpted. Lovely.
I’m glad you liked this poem.