Our memories cannot be put into mediums.
There are no photos or videos,
No stories to be written,
No prime time television episodes;
The indescribable, undeniable energy fizzing,
Binding you, finding me, winding us,
Joined in divinity.
Every way I could make
Our moments into art,
I fall short, full stop -
Are we already art?
The way you affect my heart?
Is it living in the moment?
When we're listening or kissing?
Missing no other component,
No further desires or wishing?
All I feel when around your field,
Is that I'm drinking up Life;
That this is the consciousness I was gifted to feel.
And whether or not reality has anything that is actually real,
Layer by layer, the truth becomes revealed.
It's my observance to every occurrence -
The flow of Nature's currents;
What, in life, has pertinence.
Every interaction with you is marvelous,
and of utmost importance.
You're the physical form of happiness.
And I run into a hindrance,
When relaying my senses,
To anyone else not witness,
To what we feel together in this -
Mysterious, beautiful, eternal, immense.
He's beautiful.
Life is beautiful.
Art captures meaning.
I am trying through this medium.
