Soul mates. (Revised).

By the lakes edge
the flash of electricity in the air,
cracking the night sky apart,
breaking my window.

Your face, caught in the mirror
just before our first kiss
as we crashed out of our loneliness, landing softly together,
free falling through a hail storm of dazzling reflections
that perhaps, were our previous lives;
the Bodhisattvas that came aeons before
the sceptics we now are.
Your face, caught in the fractured mirror;
pale moon between dark clouds.

For years my nights were troubled by inchoate dreams
of a young woman that I had never met,
or at least I do not think so.
                                        Her perceptions were forensic.
She seemed to know every detail of my life style,
the ins and outs of my daily drudge,
and she spoke to me like a wife with many a bone to pick.
This was long before I bumped into you at the Casareccia,
when I nearly dropped my coffee in your lap.

Pseudo Romantics call this Loving at First Sight,
but I might suggest, second sight would be more appropriate,
a thousand aeons of deep knowledge pre dating the kiss
that smashed to smithereens our preconceptions,
and broke every mirror that reflected former times.

Tonight we curl up close, like children out of the rain,
safe home at last after a lousy journey.
But how long has this journey taken? A thousand aeons?
Two thousand?                      
                      Or just a year or two?
                                                  And what does it matter?
Old theories of life and death do not concern us
                     now that we can spend some time together.


Trevor John Karsavin Potter.
November 4th. - 5th. - 7th. 2016. February 26th. - 27th. - May 5th. 2017.