By Joseph Hesch
You spied the light of me across Plato’s dark aether--
a comet you said, omen of a coming--
where others rubbed it away as an eye-corner flicker.
My Fire drew in your Air, consuming that breath
with which you make being of sparkle, songs of soul.
This drab Earth resisted the quenching rain,
until Life’s plow broke me and your Water
entered my forgotten softness beneath the crust
others had tread to adamant armor.
We burn brightly now, pushing up flaming blooms,
embracing ivy of connection, the sweetest fruit
of seeds cast from the stars in their aether,
where I sensed a heart-tripped something
between Universe and the Sphere and wondered...