The Labyrinth of Our Two Flames

 

The Labyrinth of Our Two Flames 
We love each other in the instant
where opposites touch without merging:
your blue eyes—abysses of inverted sky—
meet mine like sun striking stone at noon,
burning clear, never consuming.Your blonde curls spiral like maize in ancient light,
a golden labyrinth I enter without moving,
each strand a thread tying absence to presence.We acknowledge it: this double flame,
erotic bridge and erotic abyss,
hunger for the other’s freedom,
the soul’s wager on impossible communion.
Your eyes say yes that is also no—
a door half-open to the room
where we are already one
and forever divided.Appreciation rises like river mist at dawn:
for your laughter fracturing light,
the curve of your shoulder holding unspoken worlds,
the blue that pierces solitude
and makes it almost transparent.Realization is vertigo:
two bodies in the same suspended breath,
two solitudes touching at language’s edge,
where fingers almost meet
and the space between becomes sacred.But the pain is the axis we revolve around—
the wall of history, custom, fear,
the ancient coin: eagle or sun,
union or separation.
We cannot cross without shattering
the fragile order the world insists upon.Yet in this impossibility love sharpens,
more luminous, like obsidian cutting to the heart.
We are the reconciliation that never arrives,
two flames burning together
without becoming one fire—
and in their burning,
darkness is briefly, eternally, dispelled.We love each other.
The labyrinth turns.
The silence between us
is the poem.