I imagine our lips replicating the palms of pilgrims, touching fervently with intent,

Passion

and Love.

A love for something that exists not with us,

but an epiphany, a space of mind within our own epistemological plane that you and I may dwell in,

together.  

As we fabricate a reality that exists within a space of time where it is weakened to time itself.

Our kiss is the extension of time, a creation of maddening and temporary immortality.

You and I become gods outside of time so, just like the palms of two blushing pilgrims ready stand, pray to me.

Pray to me.

And I’ll pray to you.