Untitled I

It's not about

knowing you

when we were there,

wandering, in gardens of youthful

freedom.

What matters is that I've known you,

as you are.

It's not about

seeing you

transformed in full splendor

palpably radiant and 

blinding mortal 

eyes.

What matters is that I’ve seen you,

as you are.

It’s not about

hearing you,

angelic rhythm of

imagined voices 

wallowing in bitter-sweet

laughter.

What matters is that I’ve heard you,

as you are.

It is not about touching you

in the deepest 

recesses of your uncharted

nakedness, utterly lost 

in the celebration 

of your beauty and

passion.

What matters most is that I’ve touched you,

as you are.

It is not about feeling your

stormy thoughts

and calm contemplations

though these are far

constellations reached

only by stellar signals.

What matters most is that I’ve felt you,

as you are.

‘Tis not about

loving you,

sweet rose-petal of dreams,

brown Madonna of

the southern shores.

I should not love you. 

But everything

in me tells that

I love you.

And I will love you

in another place,

in far away life.

And it matters most that

I have loved you,

somewhere… sometime…

as you are.

Jay Pascual

2001