Common Purpose
This collectivised cortex—
latticed, light strung between us,
synapses
rooting in shared earth,
adjusting the commands
of that machinery of love,
that steady pulse
in time with the toil of many hands.
Until our uneasy murmuration,
half-communication, half-cooperation,
trembling desire
finds shape in the air,
each catching the other’s current,
borne not by will alone
but by what we summon.
Whilst incipience weaves some spell,
what emerges between us,
exists between us—
this fragile communion,
soft as fingertips—
yet to yield and bloom,
a hand in every harvest,
the voice in every song.
We are the only ones left
who remember how love
is made real in the giving,
kept alive in the sharing,
and endless in the tending—
a quiet promise we carry,
bright as ever,
rooted deeper in every return.