When words cease to travel between us,
When the breath no longer scents,
When the beats no longer boom,
When bodies lie separated by time,
And souls ache to pungent sorrows,
In this paused timelessness,
In this quantum void,
There occurs a mystic communication
Which no longer leans on presence.
It has its own ways,
An intelligence beyond compare.
It questions and replies
Both at once.
Embalms and caresses,
It is crispy with humor,
Bursting with wisdom.
The intellect merely a lost army,
Love, the master archer!
In this surrendered silence,
We stand as mere participants.