Poetry | Nature

I Meld My Soul With The Perfect One

Infinity Is Minus Time

Photo by NASA on Unsplash

Elastic lines
connect us
to this place
where sensors
burn us when
we stray outside
the pure.

Boundaries reveal
absolutely
clear descriptions
of our deep-dyed love.

Yet the keening
in my heart
calls me to
the furthest stars.

Infinity is minus time.

I step with souls
so unlike mine
they recoil
at the nearness
of my presence.

Melded with the
purely perfect one
I look toward
to his flawless
metal brights.
They bring
a tinfoil taste
that swiftly turns
to silver
setting in my bones.