Love Like the Hasidim

If I should ever know this being in love, I would want to say:

I cannot tell you why or how, of the stars being out tonight,

of the rains that yesterday didn’t come. I cannot tell you of

the spark of eternity within me; I must coax yours from that

hard-coated shell, and only then will what is electric eternal

in me stretch past the tip of my nose, inasmuch as it

charges awake that spark in you and marvels. Let me

see the wonder of worlds in your eyes; together, let

us awe at the how and the why in the stars and the

rain, at the fact of us, at wretchedness redeemed.

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