| when I look you in the eye I find
 history and mystery
 not to be known
 even as your own eye
 presses me like a white
 daytime moon nudging
 soft against an open sky
 right in front of outer space
 leading to everything else
 that flies and falls including
 any flying-falling maple seed to bring
 an unfoldment of up and down
 (now don't the sprawling-upward limbs
 and thirsty spreading-downward roots
 trace out a delicate explosion so slow
 so sweet that the tree has to yes die
 to go bare
 to fall
 to rot
 to sleep
 to have been all of
 what a tree is
 all of?)
 but how I look at you
 my very alter-life
 is as moon over healthy tree
 at play in sunlight
 in behind your eye
 behind your inner eye
 behind the innerness of your inner eye
 behind even behindness
 all the way back to
 here I am across a table
 from your most amazing being
 wondering if you see
 what journey is behind me
 all the way to here
 
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