In the moment of reckoning

or nemesis, I call you

from the clouds.

It was a poetic

whisper, no rectification. Only

different versions of truth.

The maverick will not

take it as a personal slight,

if you are preparing a premature

exit.

Can we undo the damage

and become friends?

Unuttered, but still vocal.

Who was talking

of eternity? Your love

was Being. Nothing else matters.

Metaphysically you become

abstract. I will draw

the unseen other for me.