FIRE DANCERS

& what of those beautiful tango dancers, Adam & Eve? You & me.  I pin so much hope on finding that one being who completes me. To jive, like the joyous, eight-footed octopod rolling in the deep of love-bliss, that Plato describes so succinctly, so comically. Complete. Married at the umbilicus. Yeshuah & the Magdelena. Yoni & Lingam. Romeo & Mata Hari. Judas & Juliet. & yet, & yet - I still - I still believe. Across the eons & vast expanses of inter-
galactic, inter-Cosmic time, each reaches out to the other. Yearning. Knowing completion is only a lifetime away. Maybe this time. Maybe. In the jostled crowd a face surfaces. A being. A recognition. Fingertips touch. A prestidigitation. An imbrication. The fruit is red, juicy with endless jewels locked into precision. The tango in the flames. For me, it continues. & who are you? Could it be you?