Could such coarse hands
strike forth such sweet music
drawing gently the strings of your tunic
heavenly melodies I vaguely understand
Could such stuttering lips
eloquently call forth pleasure
drawing out the decibels we treasure
from the grooved fountain of the deep
Could blind eyes dare to see
the face that launched a thousand ships
imprisoned in blissful smile of companionship
dares me to be what I must be
What strange roars I hear?
what crimson storms rage?
feeble feet wobble shy courage
as my body shudders in pleasing fear
At the moment of little death
buried in arms we bring birth
to noble life as we breath again here.