In homeopathy, the medicines taste identical, although each is a cure for a specific ailment.

One really has to depend on their containers to tell them apart.

For what ailments are we the cure, that we all look so different, on the outside?

Long after the light’s gone, here from us, on this shore, it’s seen elsewhere, passing through space and another time.

How can I be sure that the light beside me, or, I myself, am not the light from some long dead star?

One way to tell, is to see, if both I and the one beside me, are still, in a constant state of confusion.

I’ve seen you angry. I’ve seen you sad. I’ve seen you in all your moods. I’ve seen you suppress a smile, looking at my wound up face. At every moment, the bliss of our togetherness threatens to sweep us off our feet, to wash us away towards a silent, star filled ocean space. But we cling to the shores on either side, making violent faces at each other, as though it could stem the rising tide of our passion. It’s such a tenuous hold on what we call ‘me’ and ‘mine’. We would rather be wrenched away than let go, of our own free will, this useless claim to shifting sands. It takes a rather long while to get used to bliss, when we have lived for so long in pain. Why do we yell across this river, at each other, when we could be rolled along in bliss, whispering tenderness, into each others’ ears?

Looking for water, some hidden treasure, or, whatever it is I’m looking for, I’m committed to digging where my shovel falls. It’s when, I realise, that just about everything, is an act of faith!