It seems life is constructed such a way that no one can fulfill it alone.
Just as it’s not enough for a flower to have pistils and stamens
An insect or breeze must introduce a pistil to a stamen
Life contains its own Absence which only an Other can fulfill
It seems the world is the summation of Others
And yet. We neither know nor are we told that we will fulfill each other.
We lead our scattered lives, perfectly unaware of each other
Or at times, allowed to find the other’s presence disagreeable
Why is it that the world is constructed so loosely?
A horse fly, bathed in light, flies in close to a blooming flower
I, too, might have been someone’s horse fly
Perhaps you, too, had once been my breeze.