I see you now, I see you then, I see you yet to come.
You never end, you always are, you never have begun.

Where you begin and I leave off is spirit's playful trick.
For you and I, the finest line is shortened to the quick.

I sense when you are near to me and so when you're away.
Though justly few believe in such, beholders have their say.

Aromas, faint; or tingling hair; or flickers in the eye.
It's only I can validate from where they come and why.

In colours claim, I'm in your space, where no eyes may exist.
Sight always ends, and bodies too;  yet, still, you do persist.

One might think that I would miss you, your being gone and all;
and sometimes, yes, that might be true, but hints of you still fall.

Yes, hints of you still fall to me and light like butterflies,
and drink the nectar of my soul from water in my eyes.

Yes, drink the nectar of my soul, and brush my spores of love;
and carry them to trees of life that only grow above.

That only grow above, you see, but root in all below.
You keep in touch, mycelial; with mine the choice to know.

Yes, mine the choice to know, it's true, and true to me are you.
Yes, true to me are you, I choose, and choose for me, it's you.

© Sean G. O'Leary 2021 

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