Unable to bear the uncertainty of the future, we consulted seers, mediums, stock market gurus, psychics who promised happiness on this or another planet, astrologists of love, seekers of the Holy Grail. Looking for certainty we asked for promises, lover's knots, pledges, rings, certificates, deeds of ownership, when it was always enough to let your hand pa** over my body, your eyes find the depths of my own, and the wind pa** over our faces as it will pa** through our bones, sooner than we think. The current is love, is poetry, the blood beat in the thighs, the electrical charge in the brain. Our long leap into the unknown began nearly a half century ago and is almost over. I think of the amphorae of stored honey at Paestum far out-lasting their Grecian eaters, or of the furniture in a pharoah's tomb on which no one sits. Trust the wind, my lover, and the water. They have the answers to all your questions and mine.