When I am with You

When I am with You

In silence next to you I find
there is more profundity
effortlessly understood
with such transparent clarity,

far beyond the episteme
of ancient wisdoms reverently
enshrined in flowery language games
of formalistic prosody,
Socratic wit and sophistry,
or allegoric analogy:

Idealist elicitations,
didactic dialogues
invoking logos dialectically,

that through pragmatic praxis
use applied abstract syntactics
with strict analytic practice;

That is to say, methodically,
they asymptotically
approximate the axis
of syllogistic certainty.

This Hellenistic rhetoric,
stylistic of heredity
from Euripidean Bacchic rites,
dramatic choral tragedies,
Sophoclean irony, and
grand Homeric odyssey;
epic mythos
stolen from Olympus,
Platonistically,
protrudes its wordy scholarship
into the void of empty things,
occluding ontic consequence
in lieu of virtues, truths, and schemes
which steers shared normativity
into obscure philosophy
based on misplaced faith
in the strength of grandiosity
to shape all of existence
within the space of our reality
in such a way that we can say
“This is how the world must be!”

The entirety of the structure then
of supposed rationality
is built atop this line of thought
architectonically,
never self-reflecting on its very own validity,
despite foundational axiomatic tenability.

However,

Whenever I sit with you,
so few words will do.

Yet meaning becomes
as natural as the rain
as present as the sky
and the wind on my face.

When I sit next to you
the world is given.
It reveals itself
to intuition
and apprehension.

We share things that cannot be oppressed by the capture of words.

We know things together that are simply known.

This is the truth of the universe,
and it will forever refuse to be complicated by conceptual thought.

When I am alone,
I remember it in reflection,
though I do not know it in the same way anymore.

Only when I am with you
does the truth become manifest and knowable.

I am overcome. . .

We are overcome by the force and passion it obtrudes.

Only without words can it be communicated.

We are but vessels of its immaterial secrets.

Enriched forever by the experience,
we go our separate ways,
just for a while,
feeling a sense of incompleteness,
but going on knowing
that it's only temporary,
because now
we know. . .

I know
that when I am with you again,
it will all return.