But Does Love Ever Live?

              “a woman and a man,
                   no more, and yet, no less”

                                               –     Phantom

Shakespeare wrote, “There are more things
in heaven and earth, than are dreamt of
in your philosophy” but is that true
for you and I, my love?
                                           We have dreamed
and we have felt and we know the energies
that pulse between our spirits, sometimes
with intention, sometimes their own
volition.
                 Space and time are merely constructs
we mortals maintain, manifesting reality within
theories of terrestrial, scientific minds, but
are those our lines?
                                     Must we submit and obey
mandates not our own? You are not alone—
Not now, not then, not anywhen since we met
(and when was that? First glance? First touch?
First
          know?).
We,                    the pieces; ours, the choice; this
very life the one selected, from myriad options,
when cosmic hands and eyes closed, and began—

were sent spinning, hurtling, across the unseen planes,
set down in stone and soil and transitory flesh, on shores
so distant—and for what reasons
                                                              we have to guess,
or disregard entirely. The astral work is complete;
the story is conceived.
                                           We, our love, our actions, are
all that remains
                                beneath a moonless sky.