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Personal Note:

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Poem

There was something in our sway. Of hips and lips, of thoughts and things. 
Oh, there was something in that movement. That fluid, blessed movement of alignment and
fluidity, of morning slumber and night time’s caress. 
The kind of caress that stimulates and undulates. 
It brings the dead to awake. 
Nothing ever talked back when I spoke to the sky. Everything was empty, yet full and slow,
alive. 
I always had this feeling- this waiting, dripping song. It leaked into my soul and sat
there with a grin. Everything amused it, it sang of snow and sand. It sang of eyelashes
and the paper-thin touch of skin. 
I never listened when it sang to me, I knew no one else could hear. But when I stepped
into your light and widened my eyes and blew open my heart, the song it sat in silence. 
It listened. 
Defeated yet inspired, it traveled through my mouth. 
It parted my lips and left, it’s course led straight to yours. 
Just like the sky, I felt empty, yet full and slow, alive. I sat there with a grin. My
soul had found it’s friend. 
Now all I can do is give that song, receive that song and keep it free, that song. 

I’ll let us flow if you let me grow and I’ll let you see the nakedness in me, we’ll be
what we are and we’ll see what we see, we’ll do what we want because life makes us free. 

And it breaks our hearts.
 
So live and breathe and die and see, but do it as you tangle with me. When I wonder where
these feelings source, I can only say: there was something in our sway.

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