Everything is a representation of something else.
It’s all translation.
They are approximates.
Either more or less successful,
In getting closer to a meaning
But can never exactly represent.
And it is not just in concepts
Where we abstract ourselves,
It is in every communication we attempt.
That most intimate of states,
Where we almost feel a touching of souls
And announce our co-ordinates
With our I love yous,
Signposting the way to our senseless hearts,
Hoping partners stumble there
But this plea, once out
Written in me but heard in you
If accompanied by the translation
Of a look between eyes…
Or a kiss.
The distance between us
Evaporates in the immediacy of bliss.