You're the archetype
to my prototype,
the immortal
to my primordial,
the ethereal
to my celestial,
the alluring art
engraved in my heart...
Your sobriquet
is the nom de plume
and nom de guerre
of my allonym-less,
anonym-less identity
You're a respiring
kalopsia, a peristaltic
phantasmagori
To you I write
with fathomless
depth away from
the empyrean zenith
--of a starry night
You're an intertidal
inertia with an
intoxicating intrusion,
an inevitable impermanence
bringing ideal illusion
You're the trompe l'oeil
to my legerdemain,
the machination of a
multifunctional multidomain
You're indescribable in one
tangential touch
A sprinkle of you
is a pivoting trickle
of irrepressible latch
I wish I were
a persistent particle
to your molecule,
A free-flowing floccule
to your aerodynamic
amygdule,
An ignis fatuus
to your will-o'-the-wisp
nimbus;
A surreal psychedelic
to your trippy aesthetic!
But hyperboles and plotholes
never merely count;
For words are just words
in a woolgatherer's account,
Where wishful thinking escapes
Without bringing the escapist
And soul searching stays
Without fooling the realist
I have loved and cherished
a mindful of you
in mystical misbelief
For that, I'll never be close
to rewarding relief
Clearly, you're no Plato
and I'm no five zero
four zero
You're no Orwell's
1984 alive
and I'm no Radiohead's
two plus two equals five
We are as made-up
as historical revisionism,
as grim as Kafkaesque
impressionism
Because of us, "indeterminate"
becomes clear
Just one U and one I
to make opposites
repel with fear