Like a name etched in marble
your memory is marked,
unwashed by the sun, to not fade away--
vivid as Technicolor Oz, as golden and solid,
as close as if it were yesterday
and as distant--on another plane.
From your cells to my cells,
from your birth to my birth,
always living. Living in each think,
each step, each sleep, each breath--
my cells and my cell's cells,
my birth and what I birth,
always growing, extending, over-shining
to shimmer and reflect all
I perceive, touch, reveal, be.
Solid like vapor, like air, like spirit,
not a ghost, but Real--here.
The present--marked in me.