Gathering Together

                  Twin Souls 

The moon is crystal clear marble, 
woven into the fabric that constitutes 
my soul with the origin of ways 
where you are as you’ve always been; 
my rescue, my refuge. 

My brain activates the light as it blazes 
down in the darkness. The edges are 
electric, sharing an intimate life with 
another; an insurance that a second chance 
at love is not a second chance at all, 

but the initial gift of transcendental joy, 
free spirited and independent. I eagerly 
ride the linger of memories, crying softly 
at the simultaneous communication of 
moments that continued 

waving to one another through the spans 
of time. There are crumpled up pages, a 
box full of journals where we wrote our 
hurt again and again, whispering to each 
other between the probe 

and the pry of stranger’s eyes. We’ve smiled 
at the look of unfamiliarity, confused at the 
lack of depth and understanding, but knowing 
full well we’d one day reunite; saved from 
the insanity of being physically apart. 

Your ink is my ink, sealed, solid, colored. 
We’ve scribbled, doodled, sketched 
and drawn, seeing no lines to proceed 
accordingly in, no rules in the grand scheme 
of things. 

Our words became the task, balancing our 
female and male sides in the twists, turns 
and torrents of our pen where we’ve given 
the other a life, a purpose. You are my stained 
glass window, framed and trimmed 

with supportive peace and love. The color mix 
is our cover photo working on a subconscious level 
to bring about the awareness of insight. In it is the 
essential truth, within the written notes of encouragement; 
and in our home, I find the ending to our story.

 

by Theresa C. Newbill