I don’t know that we are quite so mundane as the diamonds,

rare, 
nor like the snowflakes:

Unique,
or merely multifaceted?

The light inside our souls’ zones
goes down in shades,

like a test strip,
our auras like a mason jar 
of our ocean waters drawn on any given day-

First a paint swatch, but when shaken around, we’ve moments
where our twilights have to dredge our sunlights up, so

we plumb each other’s midnights,

and everybody’s got their own trenches and abyss.
But how vast they spread!
Beyond what any strip or swatch could contain,

and contain, these fathoms do-

Growth that spreads, beasts that swim,
even currents, hot and cold…

I will never understand how indecipherable is our skin,

which bears the tale of every ounce
of life we’ve each metabolized.

But I don’t know that we are quite so one-sided as a story-

More, that we’re each our own sea 
that bleeds into 
one another’s,

missing and knowing, pushing and pulling,
releasing each other’s tides to rise, 

and catching them when they fall
back down to us. If the ocean 

is the final frontier,
then we each, alone, possess sufficient 
depths to not stop 

until each 
of each other’s is known.