both born anew / a thousand other words for beautiful...

Imagine if you will two butterflies: Both have recently struggled, strained & fought from their separate chrysalises; they now lie, side by side, wings entwined, dripping, wet; waiting, together / alone, for the sun to dry their wings... The scene is set.

The world awaits...

I look at a photograph
of a delicate rose
covered in early morning dew,

it reminds me of you:

New eyes,
new body,
we are
both
born
anew.

Discovering
new worlds within worlds,

while outside
a yellow & full moon
sets a cold city ablaze...

Inside,
in the warm;
ferns unfurl,
we are
perfect,
we are
freshly born.

We begin again.

Beginning...

To feel again
& to see again.

Reinventing
smell, sound & taste.

Let us slowly,
ever so slowly
shed our skin,
our chrysalises,

remove the rawness & sensitivity
and
become more sensual,
more magical.

Two butterflies,
wings wrapped around each other,
twisted, sore

but not broken, not fragile.

Give it time, my love...
 Give me time.

We have only just begun.
It isn't even 11:11 yet.

We adore each other's bodies,
are reminded that we are both artists,
grown up children.

And through trust & fire
(we have long established by now)
that these eyes
we have been blessed / cursed with
don't see the way most do.

And these hearts,
they beat a little different too.
Oh, the delight
in finally meeting another
heart of the same design.

Let us reawaken our poets
and discover
new languages,
new dialects...

where words & worlds collide.

Just because one man
took away that one word
doesn't mean that we cannot
come up with

a thousand other words for beautiful.

Feel the senses in rapture,
heartbeats
beat beat beating in back,
in fingertips.
Goosebumps
in nape of neck & hair.

Can you feel it too, my dear?

Let us welcome
with reckless, fiery abandon
these new senses of...

Wonder.
Delight.
Adventure.

Our presence / our very essence,
tonight (of all nights)
it breathes life into each other.

And if pain,
it threatens to take away
your feminine spirit (again):

When we next meet,
let our combined hunger & lightning
once more nuture it,

help it to
slowly burn,
slowly return.

Give it time, my love...
  Give me time.
  Give us time.
  We are only beginning.

And let's not
let our separate pasts
seep into
our
futures together.

Nature continues on,
but while apart
our senses are still so, so vital

to our memory & spirit.

Until (once more)
we are together,

born anew,
re-igniting,
gently blowing on
each others wet & glistening wing,

each others flame.

When
you smile, I smile.

We both smile.

A connection
so rare,
so genuine,
so true.

Let us continue to unfurl,
naked, no longer alone, together;

Together at last!
Eyes barely open,
senses reborn...
And learn to trust
that we are not equals;

merely
(superbly, grandly)
a long overdue
gentle / strong
reflection of each other!!

Give it time, my love...
  Give me time.
  Give us time.
  We are only beginning.
 
The world awaits...

The world begins...


(c) Brent M Harpur, 2012.

"In movement is blessing." ('Woolgathering', Patti Smith.)