"Note #8"

Flickering light.
A roughness to touch
Softly, smoothly, aching to
Move.

Shaking, moving, noiseless,
With breathing, still aching,
Feeling what there is to feel;
Soft, smooth, aches.

Sighing and breathing is
So sweet, so sweet,
Testament to the paramount,
So hard to move without thinking.

Thinking without moving,
Moving without thinking,
The thought is in the gesture,
And the gestures are all but thoughtless.

The eyes, the lips,
The tender looks and kisses,
The caresses, the sighs and moans,
The tears, the warmth, the touch.

Too much for me,
Right now,
In this moment,
This night.