And later this morning...with my
hands still feeling the
tremor of our last
touch -

I wondered of this continuation.

Of how our touch remains
incomplete...for there
is no end.

There is no destination.

No journey.

Only this continuous tremor of
no completion.

As if water droplets that have no
need to seek the
ocean....

We simply abide in the moment of
offered motion.

The ocean is given poetic
patience -

It is grand and full of its
wait to receive.

Yet it is the water drops that merge to a
greater essence...that give of their
selves to enter into waiting
waves.

And again it is the same drops that
answer the pull of heat and
sun and merge once more
upon a cloud,

Rain drops know there is no
ultimate self.

There is only this journey.

So I wondered of our
touch...

Of the magic of our incompletion.

And I smiled as the tremor of
my hand faded so.

As if I had just left the
ocean.

Knowing I would return.