Here on these pages
a fire began
with a spark of recognition.
Haven’t I tasted your words
at some communal table
set to honor the goddess?
The strings of the lyre
ripple through your voice
and resonate my core with birdsong.
Even the laughter that permeates the air
has the familiar, beloved scent
of petals and moist earth.
Your hands encircle my waist –
swirling, you lift me higher;
far beyond the promise of a rainbow.
Does my joy in seeing you
reflect a mirrored past –
a circle dance of confluence?
Navigating these rivers with you
surely must have begun on a primordial raft
with our essence intermingled….