I want to hear your pulse
taste your sweetest sound
The moon
is ripe with envy, made of you;
you call the stars, and they surround
unseen dancers--silent swoons
you have no vows, no silver spoons
you are marooned on fertile ground
a cosmic well, of love, in tune
Assume
believe in lust
key is trust
secret slaves, each one of us
nature's whim, fruit to pluck
caress the moon, nimble touch
translucent fingers, limpid eyes
information, come alive
knowledge breathes, becoming skies
as what you eat is what you are
what you see is what's inside
Slowly, we are stepping through the door.