I don't like being away from you
It's like the space between
Our fingers
Our bodies
Our eyes
Our souls
Create a chasim
In which I shatter and drown
I can only liken it to a dust mote
Lying in a corner
Content with the shade
Until something
A movement
A stirring
A breeze
Lifts it and carries it away
Into the light
Of sun scattered
Through a window pane
And suddenly for the briefest moment
In the heated blaze of fainting sun
It knows how a falling star feels as it streaks across the sky
A blazing emblem
For a moment every part of that dust mote
Is beautiful
Every part of it illuminated
And as it streaked across that sunbeam
It's own infinity of sky
It knew what it had missed
Until it settled in another corner
Where it dreamed of being stirred once more
Thus when I dream
I dream of being stirred
I dream of you.
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