In my youth, I didn’t
see the coin, only heads or tails,
and I could not see the forest for the
trees.
I walked the narrow path of enigma and
cliché
with no room for the super-colliding
electron’s decay
or a subatomic particle’s brief foray into
space and time.
I had stumbling meter, but not a couplet’s
rhyme.
Now I see neither the forest nor the
trees,
only the ever-present likelihood of green.
The either-or is such a silly prom night
theme.
It is the fool who tries to separate the
river from the sea,
to divide lovers in the act of love into
he or she
or to split particle and wave, erasing the
ecstasy of light.
But, I hear you ask, what happens to the
ocean
when the tide washes ashore and sinks into
the sand?
I have been where you are standing, but
now
I do not see such a beginning or an end,
for the shoreline is seamless in a cosmos
on the mend.
I divine the wholeness of Earth and star
and galaxy.
I feel, but do not see, that time, like
love,
forever folds upon itself, forever bends.
It is said that the most memorable of kisses
never ends.
~William Hammett
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