Art by Norman E. Masters
You have but come into my ken; but we mesh, we mesh. From the essence of the cosmos we communicate we are. We touch new chords, bright chords never known --yet older than time. A meeting not of flesh but of soul, of love. Alone we stand, inviolate. Slim tendrils wavering, reach out we ignore them until they touch another. We were two, we are one; we will be two again but never the same. We travel alone among many and then an infinite spark Oh joy! Oh love! We mesh, we mesh.