Roaming Minds

This is not quite a traditional Good Friday poem - actually, I'm not really trying to deal with those themes at the moment. This poem is simply my attempt at a minor romantic verse, I figured all the convoluted inner monologues could use some balancing out. I hope you enjoy this.

I do not know where you are; yet

as I look around at faces

and frames passing by, I only

know where you are not; here, with me.

This, to me, is one flaw found in

incarnate, fleshy humans: We

are in the world, definite, known

by coordinates of space, timely

distinctions. Right now, you are not

here.

I do not, cannot know nor guess

where you are, for I am still here,

and you are still not. My sole chance

at solace is to sit and squeeze

life in around and between thoughts

of you, and pray that wherever

it is you actually are,

that your thoughts are there as well,

and that my thoughts will meet you there,

finding your smile as warm and bright

as it seemed at one time to be.