Even a Stone Is Not a Stone / This Is How I Love You

An object is a thing that remains equal to itself.
In a human life, a stone is often a stone —
the same now as before —
but the world is never a stone, even as it is made of stones.
I am not a stone.
We move through the heavens,
to wax mystically poetic,
in a rotation our stars sing for aeons,
but we are are brief enough
that even the smallest millennia escape experience.
We trip among the seconds and minutes,
delivering blows and kisses.
We cannot remain equal to ourselves
as the calculation of our passage quickens.

You are not a stone.
The earth is not a stone.
In terms of galactic years and cosmological decades,
even a stone is not a stone.

This is how I love you:
hidden among our galaxy's minutes and hours,
I find you again and again,
changed yet known,
happening with me through the universe
in our turn among the stars.