Most intricate,
the smallest part
mirrors the whole,
infinite shapes repeating,
linear, unexpected,
infinity.
Where is chaos here?
Footprints lost and then found,
and lost again.
I remember these
dimensions in your eyes,
your skin, your tongue.
Come, let us be butterflies
and fly against the grid.
...and WHAT a love poem!
ReplyDeleteI like this more the more I reread it.
Like the final lines.
ReplyDeleteOh my...
ReplyDeleteand ditto, those two last lines take my breath away!