Through Consciousness Itself

There was a river.
Families of geese and kingfishers,
swallows riding the air —
existence itself a cause for ecstasy.

On the new moon,
I waited.

I turned,
saw another being,
two creatures
beholding each other.

We walked back
through unnamed night,
no need for justification,
no notions
of rightdoing,
of wrongdoing.

We drew cards:
patience,
fate.

Through consciousness
itself.