Crossing over

Returning to the same place,
hands across an ocean
eyes across a sky so wide
galaxies hide there.

We are Samurai.

You linger on the edge of nowhere
hungry for something, I have no mouth
to feed you.

Returning to the same place
we miss each other, we pass
so close we can almost touch.

Forgetting for minutes,
the Gods laugh at us.

Here, kites fly in an unfeeling sky
and a starving people leave
flowers on my doorstep.

Frangipani, pale linen gilded
purple with the sweet smell
of love.

What use are Samurai in heaven?

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