Since he had gone mad with the passion. He was thinking out of body. He found neither a gentle caress nor the light pet was enough to express it.

Speaking in third person since his over soul was taken over. He found it was a cycle vicious and human that had him possessed. For every trip was soft, as it was grappled with.  To never remove its placement and to come close to strangling it.  It was nothing of a rational life nor mind.  The body to fall behind and under it would go. Almost too desired the eternal embrace; eyes always closed, To dream its perfection, Eyes always open To witness it.

It was no leap of faith, perhaps trust at its best, but instead of claiming it was of things above we called it love. Something much more close and controlled.