I will know, for I will climb
through iris windows
and trace the silhouette of me
etched into you.
I will press my ear against your chest
and hear the pulsing lifesong
that wove its glittered echo through
the elongated sun and moondance
of my solitude.
I will study the geography of you
and startle at the déjà vu:
the contours of your face
and the cadence of your gait,
the color of your voice
and the current of your touch,
the creases of your thoughts
and the crescendo of your faith.
This is how I will know
I am done wading through
your absence,
through the giddy tries
and crumbled misses,
to that place where Holy Hands
will fuse two paths
with the spark and crackle
of soul intersection.
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