not in haste
nor mythical nirvana
neither tranquil respite
or rapacious rush of unchecked urgency
sounds covet the delicate unison
linger over exhalations
stumble on a new rhythm
scale the chords
of vanishing horizons of history
notes curve gracefully
against the wind of time
that moves us
timpani of hearts
fill the space that holds us
our bed
an orchestra pit
our love
the dove feather floating
to the music that we make
beautifully evocative - as I read aloud the words 'rapacious rush of unchecked urgency', I felt a flush of energy rise from my thighs to my face... and imagine, our bed, an orchestra pit - just feel that! These words woo the ear that is remembering how to listen... thank you Jana
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