With an archangelic blessing they stand open naked exposed one gaze of longing one gaze of wonder there is need of nothing save one another beneath stark colors beneath fluttering imagination beneath divine sky neither highest peaks over verdent fields nor deepest riverbeds under raging flows prevents this sanctification As trees may burn As serpents may strike As gilded beams beat down Time halts or never was Whilst raptured crimson wings effortlessly suspend any pretense of twoness worshipping this momentary omnipotence cursing the ludicrous notion of morrow Their curving bodies are but one-- *--at least for now.
This is the first in the start of a series I'm planning.