I am what you are not and you are what I am not; his whisper came into me gradually, unopened and free, with no demand for attention. And I shivered in a place I know not of, pulsating rhythms cascading up the linear compass of my reality.
Listen, he spoke, his voice a broken stream carrying my essence along, not alone and not together, yet formed in a union of mystery, blended into some buttery goodness of taste to be. Had I not seen him, I would have believed his spirit to be housed outside this realm, in another dimension of time and space, perhaps aside the stars of the ocean or within the makings of the mountain’s ribbon wrapped through eternity.
Blended, yes, the word echoed in my mouth, pressing upon the pallet of self. Wishful, I was, becoming something familiar and unfamiliar at once. Penetrated by his form and existence.
Rest in me, I thought, truly in me, amongst the hidden parts, unburied and surfaced long ago, made way for your entrance. Come into me, fully, pulsating with the vibration that is you.
He did, before my thought awoke, a talisman entering for my protection, and I, in turn became his space, the occupant dipping into what was before as recognizable and delightful.
Though unknown, he was, he was known, a ripple brought forward from before, cascading into the rivers poured out. I wanted him, not as one aches for lover, but as one aches for self, a representation of all that was and all that will be, and more so the stamping of the moment, when all stood still, and at last I could embrace this life.
Alive! Breathing in the someone we became. Breathing in his rapture. His dignified grace.
His needs, though deeply hidden, emerged, just at the surface of me, and I could feel, as one feels his way through the darkness of familiar, the edges of where he led. Guiding me to his own tasseled secrets, hung up and dangling in the star-center of his soul, of what had to be his region, the very valley where he lay.
I rested there, in the glacier melted; the waters moving between us as paint fluid, though stagnant in a way I had craved for centuries. Stuck in some universal pattern of awareness.
I liked him here, in this place he had undone for me, and me alone. Liked him as I liked the jelly-jangling joy of a babe. I reached in then, and dripped with his sweetness, tantalizing flavor.
I am, he spoke, again, shivering me with the causation spun of his desert words. Parched, he began, drinking me, taking what he’d come for, enticed by his own appetite, enamored by my wrappings. Unraveled, the walls collapsed and all about was light. Every variable molecule un-spun and resting in the bath of illumination.
Breathe me. Breathe me. Breathe. The tide came, turning my toes blue in the delicate heat of salty-cold. Sigh. A part left and a part returned, and I danced in some endless ballroom, spun by the element that he had become as we first joined. Spun round myself, his-self, and these burdens we had carried.
Electrified in his making, I gave out, breaking through into the regions of beyond and climbing high into the terrace peaks. Treasured, I was, not as the golden spinnings, or opportunist’s fortune, but as the new found hope, the lush layering of his potentiality, the vibrating connection of forever.
I had found him and he had found me, two starseed children set upon their master’s lap to rejoice in the heavens.
Yes, I wanted him. I wanted him more deeply and more widely than anything phathonable. I wanted him to break me and imprison me. To control me. To bring down columns from the sky and erect them in a box around me. To be his willing captive and told where and how to be. To bow down in recognition of his bounty, and nibble off anything that stumbled my way.
For I no longer cared where I stood, for whom I stood, or why I stood. Instead, I had rather hoped to sprawl out on the ground and be fed to the soil as freshly born seed. To be sprouted in his presence, again and again, into the newness he brought forth effortlessly.
Here I wanted to rest, as his space, and his escape, as his free prisoner, enchanted in the rhythm of our vibrations, sped into the dimensions of reality; over and over, reopened for his devouring.
Belly of a Star 