the most beautiful thing: smoulder
What is it about smouldering, dark-as-night, endless-as-a-well eyes that pierces me so? Runs me through in all the right places, because I am run through in all places? Kills me again and again, a quick painless, indeed ecstatic, death? What is it about the flash of those browns that pins me to the wall, to my own bones and does not let me go. What is it that lifts me up to meet the moon and stars and drops me from heights unvisited but for the wings of angels? What is it about your eyes that breaths the very essence of god into me?
Is it that when I fall into those eyes, I fall forever as if falling right off the face of the earth and into the night sky, across galaxies unexplored, across time and space? Is it that inside that swimming empty space, black from the lack of intrusions of light and object, there is endless possibility? Is it that in those endless, bottomless, filled-to-the-brim eyes that I am most reflected, that my image becomes clear as if falling on the surface of a new moon black sand tidal pool? Yes, I dare say, yes. It is true that I am made more whole, sink more into myself, arrive more fully here than I have ever been before and since those eyes.
So, then, is it really about me? If yes, then it is simply and completely about that part of me so ready to respond at the slightest of your touches even from afar. It is about that part of me that combusts to create anew and melts to feed the forest at the mere thought of those deep pools of wanting, those oil-rich caverns of love, giving, and hunger. Inside this wanting of soul-meld, this hunger for sheer life force incarnate, we collide. We collide in the eternity without borders that is the space between this ocular romance and the chakras that extend far beyond this room, let alone this body, all at the hint of the glint of those eyes. It is about me. It is about me with you.
It is our true call and response, beyond words beyond questions answered and requests honored. It is the promise offered and taken by dark and light, new moon and spring fern. It is this exchange, this holding-up of all that is right in us that will pull us through the muck and mire. There will be hands held and bodies connected, whispers and shouts and songs and smiles, deep breaths and deeper wanting, but without question it will be the eyes that have it, that have us right where they want us: interlocked, completed, smouldering, beautiful.