The HandShakes

I promised

Infinite Nothing.

So let's hold that Thought.

Saw it, in half if one must.

For each side of the locket,

Clasped,

To the here after.

Not prying open.

Hearted,

Peering into past perfect.

Penmanship, left-right, handed.

Presence, common-sensed.

Closed,

like a Safe.

What puzzle piece of the Universe

ever fitted up exactly,

having no cushion in

the era, or in itself...

Being just space:

For Partial

Human

Understanding.