It is only in the great open spaces of a starry night that I hear my lover's passion,
Feel the unbearable aching deep within some part of me that knows more than this.
Fulfillment so satisfying I shall evermore seek its presence in corporeal moments
No longer existing upon my plane?
Or perhaps they never existed. Perhaps these are the memories of another space, another time, another place that has imprinted upon my soul, or whatever it is that is the real me, the everlasting me, the infinite me.
Yet I know it is real. I have always heard the echoes of its whisperings, remembered its impossible touch, known the all consuming ecstasy of its being around me.
A lifetime of searching has only brought me jaded lessons from imperfect lovers impersonating the impossible, the perfect,
The one true love.
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