Chemical Reaction

Those caesium eyes are lies
Cyprium and aurum were always more your style
The argentum and indigo were dreams and now discarded memories
We have burnt as brightly as tungsten
And now…

I can't.

I don't know how to translate that passion you have beget in me to eloquence and meandering trails of chemical lights. All I know is sky-blue and quick-silver, shining dawns and shining water. You bring out the beauty, and I still see it a week after dancing between cirrus lace and rhythmic light playing in the waves.  That is what is strangest of all.

I have always cared for you, but seeing the beauty in these names that will probably never be of use to me…it is lasting without  your voice explaining the functions and complexities, those atoms of God that line up, casting shadows that dance beneath their miniscule weight. And that is what is throwing me.

How odd that your doubts and rage and fears prove within me that there is a reason, an existence, a beauty, and meaning. There is a God, and there is love and purpose in this world. It makes me conflicted, because when I talk with you, those too rare occasions, your pain is so sharp it cuts and wounds, but I can never send you words of healing, even though they are somewhere within me giving me hope.

All I want is to share that hope.