As soon as my eyes register what the letters spell

Instantaneously my heart swells

A primordial, instinctual response born of an ancient and raw familiarity

The words are unceremonious, yet they are tranquilizing

Soothing and dizzying

As curing as a bolt of lightening is to the night sky above a restless sea

An essence of home, but not of tedium or indifference

Oh no, there is nothing ordinary about this lightening strike,

Nor does the open sea repel its heat.

A fire embers deep in the belly, a match strikes every time I read his words

Or listen to his voice

Yet his face is of a stranger, a hazy silhouette that I can’t quite articulate

I yearn to sharpen the outline of this magic-inducing presence

To apply color, to fill in the lines.

But this form does not need solidifying at the moment

A touch, gentle and passionate at once, accesses my soul,

And shifts the functions of my body

I try to, want to resist.  I have to.

But I want it.  I welcome it.  My heart yearns for it.  My spirit calls for it.

How do I know? How do I know?

A living, pulsating mystery that has already unfolded, but is shrouded in mist.

I must keep going. I must persevere. My curiosity must not, cannot, wane.

In this, my vision is not linked with my eyes, the cry is not heard with my ears.

His scent is untraceable.

I am unable to touch or taste his flesh.

These senses are disabled.

It is only our spirits that can communicate.

It is our hearts that can listen and respond to the reciprocal calling.

Someday the fog will lift and roll away, taking with it the enigma and secrecy.

Remaining in the wake, rhythms of the earth that never stopped,

Stripping the questions of all but their lucidity

Love waiting on the crest of the waves of our souls.