Cosmic dust of color, spread across the marble table

Cosmic dust of color, spread across the marble table, where you, with sacred grace, draw esoteric circles, watching me as I prepare the canvas for painting, laughing softly, slipping your powdered finger into my ear, like a secret sign of our mystical initiation. Surprised, I was caught in the alchemy of creation, gathering colors like precious relics, unaware of my surroundings, of your gesture approaching like a gentle incantation; I laugh too, realizing the intimacy of your sacred dust-covered finger, which seems uninterested in my art, but I continue to mix the pigments in water, watching the miracle of colors blossoming, our senses tuning to the scent of earth and mystery. Thus begins the cosmic tango of dryness becoming wet, a touch of salty taste, colors binding in an astral glide, until inseparable unity is formed, profound warmth in union, inevitable growth, pigmentation seeking release. But not yet, oh no... First, there must be a pause, a relaxation of thickened magic, delayed contemplation, then the pressure of my hands, pressing, shaping, pressing, forming the essence. We sip our wine, speak softly, anticipating the inevitable drying, saying to each other: "We are ready for the final phase: the inspiration that binds, merges disparate colors, ultimately yielding to the delicate, inevitable finish", Later, as the canvas dries, as it must in the ritual, we cannot resist nibbling bits of still-hot inspiration, dipped in the melted butter of art, feeding each other, transcending words, finding new ways to see one another, in ritual light.