THE CALL
I fold myself into his words.
They are warm blankets,
Under which I curl and bend and writhe.
Extending limbs to the four corners,
Stretching muscle, straining bone,
Reaching, yearning for a touch deeper than
The deepest touch of heart and mind.
Ne’er content with closeness,
Craving a thing closer than closeness.
Feeling the infinite space between
The skin of two hands enclosed,
One in the other,
Legs bound by legs,
Lips locked by lips.
What will close that space?
I ask.
THE RESPONSE
The power of Honesty,
The thrill of Trust,
And the mystery of Love.
Jan 30, 2019
Jan 30, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
THE CALL
I fold myself into his words.
They are warm blankets,
Under which I curl and bend and writhe.
Extending limbs to the four corners,
Stretching muscle, straining bone,
Reaching, yearning for a touch deeper than
The deepest touch of heart and mind.
Ne’er content with closeness,
Craving a thing closer than closeness.
Feeling the infinite space between
The skin of two hands enclosed,
One in the other,
Legs bound by legs,
Lips locked by lips.
What will close that space?
I ask.
THE RESPONSE
The power of Honesty,
The thrill of Trust,
And the mystery of Love.