I’d like to say that sewing the previously severed back together
in the hopes of new growth
That reattaching fallen meaning to its original source is surgery: precise, laser-cut,
a cosmic jigsaw puzzle.
Or even something successfully completed in the universe.
That’s what they sell you.
Meaning in the flesh, of the flesh, becoming one
after twice cauterized and split, uniquely molded
by two lives.
Romantic when it all “fits together”.
Perfection when each benefits from the other,
is good, but not the best. Not even close.
Existing with another is only perfected in
existing for another.
Uncovering earthly beauty begins the journey of
purifying, sanctifying, dying
The impossible Surgery
of seeing beyond who I am
what I want
Reconstructing the original form of
tenderness, intimacy, ultimate closeness.
Working muscles that are weak
only strengthened by a vision
of something better than me.
We were made for more than us,
society, mere legacy.
I act, suffer, exist to make you