For Most In My Thought

For most in my thought,
in my thought-stream’s
little splashes, no pads
of
semi-permanence lie in wait,
afloat.

For most in my dream’s life,
in my went years
seen scaling up skies,
I
have not substance to match
with wavering image.

For you, on one end of love’s radii
permanence,
of physics and company
burrowing through
the
heart-set sense of reconciliatory
understanding,

for you
what I have is yours alone,
except
when mine,
and still in the original.