In sorrow...

Let my fingers be
your tears.

Dissolving in a moist embrace.

Knowing how deeply that
I hold you.

This touch...

Air conforming to the
curve of our
existence.

The world breathing slight
against the skin.

And subtle fingers play as the wind...a brush so
slight it lingers as a sigh.

This holy contact.

Space making love to
what it defines.

While receiving what we
offer in return.

You press your fingers to
my lips...

As if a sudden hush of
understanding.

For once spoken...words would be
distance from this moment.

And only our caress knows the
taste of nearness.

To love as nothing.

To grasp assurance in loosened
fingers...unafraid of what
may fall.

To vanish in our reach.

As if our arms extend in the
farthest reaches of our
dreams.

And yet we are not absent from this
final touch.

We are the kiss of air beneath the
reach of fingers.

To have nothing left to say.

To speak with wordless tongues that
ache from a taste of deeper
stillness.

To love as nothing.

As only this...

Infinitely inspired...

I write these
words.

Lost in a single
thought of
you.

May I be as water to
your lips -

In the thirst of your
desire.

And in the moments after
contact...

May you thirst for one
drop more.

Monday, May 31, 2010 at 4:23pm

We wear our distance as a
second skin.

As if joined by the space that
falls between us.

And every motion reaches as a
soft caress.

In distance...

We spread our fingers to
the night.

Sure of this connection.