I am an experiment,
but also,
the experimenter.
I love,
yet I am Love.
I give,
though I am also the conduit,
and the receiver, too.
I am everywhere
and nowhere
at once.
I am that subtle scent of lavender
that erupts into the atmosphere
every time you think of me,
those gentle, airy flute notes
hidden in your head.
I am in these words you’re reading,
as they rise off the page,
letters dancing in the air,
swirling away as you jump up
to catch them.
I am the rich burgundy leaf
floating off Autumn’s tree,
resplendent in my being,
respectful in my submission
to the universe and its cycles.
I am the weakening of your legs,
the overflow in your heart,
every time you pass me in the hall –
not me, but the other “me” –
the tangible body,
the enthralling ego.
And though I’ve already turned the corner
and disappeared from sight,
the real “I” still haunts your eye,
still taunts your “I”,
still wants to be seen.
We exist in these two worlds:
one where all we do and say
is restricted, daily,
unless deemed appropriate,
where we are nothing more
than empty appearances
exuding angst and authority.
But in the other,
we are free,
boundless,
alive.
There,
you whisper sweet nothings
straight into my heart,
and I respond,
not with words,
but through the deep knowing
we both share.
In the world of appearances,
we hardly talk,
but in this world
that is realer than real,
we are one.
I am not I,
and you are not you.
Words make no sense
because there’s no sense to be made,
only experiences to be felt,
moments to melt into.

In this moment of timelessness,
this world of oneness,
we merge,
and Oh!
What a divine death it is!
What a blissful burial
of my “I”
and your “you”.