The light, it touches my heart.

Even though I do not see it,

I can feel it, and remember it

And the way it touches my cheek.

The way the radiant Sun

Touches my skin with soft fingertips.

The warmth of an immense body

Transferring to me with something so small.

Is this the way of love?

Is something so complex as simple as the Sun?

Only a fraction of being, pushing through time and space

To be with another? To be with me?

Are Neruda's questions and poems

Of love and life really only made up

Of a complicated simplicity?

This I can not know

But I can not wait to explore and ponder.