A Strange Land

paradise
a garden with running water
water in a dry land

it calls to us,
beckons alluringly,
sooths the soul
the sound of water
the scent of rain
aridness constrained
water in a dry land

castle on a hill
bastion opposing heat and sun
the edge of civilization
triumph in time, over time
pools, fountains,
senses willingly beguiled
paradise
water in a dry land

so you have been
water in a dry land

The intersections of our lives.

Some lives intersect along whole surfaces. They blend together in seamless arcs and pleasing forms. Point and counterpoint in rhythm with each other, not conjoined, but blended, symmetry, a balance achieved, comfort.

Some lives merge together, run hand in hand with each other. They merge and enhance becoming larger entities, edifices, cathedrals one might say. A merging together of lives to create something understandable, coherent, perceptible, a unity, a shaped space.

But our lives, the complex geometries of ourselves intersect irascibly, conjunctive points in an imperceptible structure whose purpose, meaning or ultimate form surpasses our cognition. Occasions of connection that lead not rhythmically onward nor to some larger purpose. Occasions which neither preclude nor predestinate some future connection.