These richly complicated tapestries
and their intricately woven threads
have been effortlessly loosened,
as if each strand was composed in error
or missing some vital precious element
that we neglected in the weaving.

It is in this gentle undoing that
I am only beginning to understand
the vast irrelevance of time, and
how the continuum of our story
has no tangible end or beginning.

We have both quietly meandered
across a broader set of frequencies,
and though we have been scored with memories
and pierced with endless ripples in the breaking,
their lingering echoes only tote hushed whispers, 
remnants that are littered with a deafening static -
as if we have never burst with the clarity
or the ceaseless synchronicity
that has breached all of our seams now.

I can no longer comprehend
how all past similitudes were motionless -
held only in the peak or the nadir,
for we must uncover kinships
dynamic to our whole vibrations,
to truly crest in each amplitude.

We fell into such cosmic rhythms and
then came the complete unravelling.

Beautiful disasters were written in the yarns
that tumbled from every labyrinthine panel,
a chaotic and hastened spillage
in the undressing of our fragile souls.

We laid ourselves bare in a language
we were sure no other could comprehend,
certain that writing with our tainted inks
would damage hungry canvasses…

We need not have worried.

Compassion tore through every muted secret
and devoured every subdued confession,
because in the telling we only became
more ravenous to paint stories anew.

It was the safety of these transmissions
that somehow blurred the timelines,
when we realised how in this channel's parallels
all of our beginnings and ends dissolved.

In these unceasing similarities
I wonder if the brilliance of these energies
are somehow contained in dials,
tuned to the most graceful alignment and
oscillating in blissful synchrony.

I've come to believe that we are
tangled by invisible forces,
with every meaningful coincidence
a choreography of the cosmos;
for it feels as though each familiarity
is etched among the countless mysteries
that lie suspended across the universe,
and we are entwined in its inevitability
akin to some romantic fate.

I’ve never before witnessed
the way our dimensions bleed,
seeping into one another
until we are somehow always aware -
like two strings tuned to the same pitch
and creating a violently palpable resonance.

And in these turbulent streams of recognition
our intimate understandings are almost too much to bear.

Yet, somehow,
sensing the frailties in these shared wavelengths,
is how we continue to appreciate that
we are the missing constituents;
in spite of any damaged, fraying fibres
or tarnished and weakened filaments,
we need each other in the eternal weaving.

I am only beginning to understand
the vast irrelevance of time, but
with every synchronicity
I’m certain we have always been,
and will always be,
tied.

We have no truly tangible end or beginning.