Near or far won’t matter, nor will thin or fatter. There is birth and death, yet we persist — unchanged by both, deranged by neither. Well, maybe a little. This is what we suspect: beyond heaven or hell, there is one touch no tongue can tell. That’s why we keep our lips zipped. We need them for that one kiss, the one that matters. When we touch lips, light relaxes into itself and everything goes silent.

There is a shattering revelation, filled with poignancy and terror and sublimity. A thousand, a million invisible lips from the past and future are kissing us right now, even while we are reading the news, thinking about last week-end, the opportunities that still await us, the chronic ache in our back.

What about this, what about that. What is it we really want, have we already forgotten? We keep moving things around, but they always end up in the same place. Look — the hands on the clock hold each other tenderly. If they could kiss right now they would.

But wait! Because everything happens simultaneously, you are in love! You are holding yourself in a deep embrace, so profound that everything has gone silent. You smile a little, because now you remember you like it like that! Maybe you remember the future? Here it is now, filled with kisses and intimate touches, so intimate you are neither subject nor object. Who could have imagined it would be like this, that we would always be on the verge of remembering, of actually understanding?

Even with our amnesia, even with the incessant news, we must admit — this falling through space and time with arms spread wide is exhilarating! Let’s never stop kissing, touching, reaching for each other like a sleepy hand reaching for the pillow, then sliding into another warm world — the people are friendly, familiar. We have met before. Maybe in the future?

We approach each other with tremendous desire. Now everyone is waltzing in front of the mirror. It is all perfectly synchronized — each step, each whirl, each glance communicates a mutual recognition. We are remembering now. It is all coming back. We didn’t need to do a thing — no special prayers, no endless prostrations, no mantras or meditations. Because everything happens simultaneously, we are already in love!


About Bob OHearn

My name is Bob O'Hearn, and I live with my Beloved Mate, Mazie, in the foothills of the Northern California Sierra Nevada Mountains. I have a number of blog sites you may enjoy: Photo Gallery: Essays on the Conscious Process: Compiled Poetry and Prosetry: Verses and ramblings on life as it is: Verses and Variations on the Investigation of Mind Nature: Verses on the Play of Consciousness: Poetic Fiction, Fable, Fantabulation: Poems of the Mountain Hermit: Love Poems from The Book of Yes: Autobiographical Fragments, Memories, Stories, and Tall Tales: Ancient and modern spiritual texts, creatively refreshed: Writings from selected Western Mystics, Classic and Modern: Wisdom of a Spirit Guide: Thank You!
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