Love letters III

Does this pouring over of fertileness beget my femininity? And if so, do i dare to share the experience of the masculine half within, rising in awe and honor, until circles of white heat pour from my own heart?

There is no nudity here, or even evidence of sex appeal. While biology inevitably and with grace spirals out from each breath, this meeting is upon the back of spirit. A continuous climax of space, an awareness of unity between such opposites.

~~

How alluring, the majical cry of as we defy this futile blessing of playing at autonomy, that some essence greater than our own arises. And with what shape can we perceive to be both creator and witness?

Recently i have delighted in a release of the desire to understand or even be understood by you. Forgoing the common courtesy of bending into a shape quite not mine that you may feel respected and seen has left me naked in a way that often presses against my comfort like ice. Yet in this willingness our communion has become, amongst the tiniest galaxy, post-phenomenological.

~

This new space, owned by neither and felt by both, multiplies unfounded. I pound pavement that the sun and my lungs and legs can agree on some form of earthly congruency. Sweaty and smiling i design the ways that i might again feel the heat of my body coming back from yours.

~NmW