I want to make love to life with you
just as we have made love to each other.
I want to travel across the open plains to be by your side,
just as my fingers have journeyed softly across your flat belly.
Let us run to one another,
and then to the snow-topped mountains.
We will climb up to the peaks of them
and look out towards the sea,
just as we have looked into each others' eyes,
and understood each others' souls there,
and seen the oceans there of all that could be.
Just as we did with each other,
when we once were unfamiliar,
we can explore foreign lands
of strange faces, languages, and ways;
fall deeply in love with them;
grow to be intimate with them;
and then feel a sweet sadness whenever we part from them.
And, like the phases our love goes through,
we will experience seasons of both warmth and coldness
as we adventure through places of both joy and despair.
Can we bathe together, naked, in salty water, and fresh?
Shower, embracing, under soft waterfalls in humid climes?
Feel a last gasp of coarse wind between our fingers
as we walk down wintry city streets and they come close to intertwine?
Breathe autumnal forest air through our noses as we kiss
and a campfire graces us with its perfume?
Leave imprints in the soft grass
as we lie upon our backs in it at night,
looking at the bright stars with equally bright eyes
and feel them in our spirits,
as we do each other,
and then fall asleep there
until the blush of sunrise awakens us?
Can we?
My dear, my arms may be empty
since you have departed from here,
but my heart is full.
Full to bursting wide open
with appreciation of the possibilities
and a hope that beautiful dreams like this
shall one day come to pass for us,
and then we will make love to the world, together,
as we have made love to each other.