pact.

You're something like I think you are.
I know I don't know well enough
to say I know
or know you well, but
everything I think of you
comes from the stuff and consequence
you've given me,
which gift has been epiphany,
enormity, and tenderness.
I've taken it unquestioningly,
and questioned you with interest.
And you have answered me
with nothing less, seriously
and generously, from everything you are,
I guess. That guess keeps getting better, best
- and you possess and understand
the sense of me I've given you.
I'm adding to it all I can,
and you can ask me all the rest.

And all the time we're giving in,
we come to know for real and true
something for sure. We don't know all
of what it is, just yet, but we are
whetted to investigate, explore - and
we know we want the so much more
there somehow always is
to find.

We've known each other ever since
beginning to, since you
are all you've ever
given me, and I
am all I've ever given you,
and you know
you

are welcome to
the part of me that's mine.