To and fro, the high and low tides,
Fate and the fated, and man,
Who searches for woman,
Spanning the seven seas,
To spawn a moment,
That gives as much as it takes,
The aching heart climbing,
Onto another. The little exclamations
The bursts of laughter,
The silence that weds two gazes,
And the palms in soft caress.
Two people and an epiphany
Of how one knows, instinctively
That she will outgrow everything else,
How love too begins as a zygote,
And becomes a heartbeat.
The rapture that aches in absence
And follies in company,
The formidability of a focal point
That compliments without words,
In one beautiful deed, a kiss.
How impulsive you are in the presence
Of another, the caress before
The cascade, the motionless point
Of blissed convergence, of lips,
No longer capable of asunder.