The Destination Was Her

By Harold Stearley at

It’s hard to describe,

truly meeting someone.

When eyes open,

Hearts sync.

A special soul,

To embrace,

Enfold, entwine.

But there were many separations.

Space-time matrices to traverse,


Life Stages.

Two nurturing souls.



Horizons expanded.

A mystical wonderland.

Alive and pulsating.

An endless flood of sensation.

Time shared.

Bonds forged.

Then a withering flame.

A magical land,

Turned landscape of loneliness.

The dichotomy of dissonance.

Beauty everywhere.

With heart-tie gone,

There could be no gravity.

The mark on the map

was never the journey’s end.

The geography was never Earthbound.

The destination was her . . .

Her heart.


Photo: From light years ago.  A special flame.

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