I am lying here in this space we carved from our imaginations. You left the window open and as I close my eyes I can see the cool air, like I can see darkness, crisp and continuous. For the first time I fully understand what your presence means modified as it is through absence. The sensation of sweet cool air at the edge of night, flowing around the warmth of sensation...brings with it a singular sensual awareness of this one body-mind. The soft moaning of fabric, persistent and effortless in its simplicity, dancing in the red glow of fading warmth. The moment drifts and beside me I feel the entire cosmos as my beloved, you are become the nebulae and the spaces between thought. I am hanging on but I can feel myself, like the end of a sigh, softly dissipating. I feel the cool air as a disparity, a differential and it leaves me hollow. I am lying here in a space we carved from desperation. You left the window open...and through it slips memory.
There is a shadow, expanding like the long fingers of a Banyan tree, slowly twisting with the fabric of light to create contrast between memory and present tense. Color comes as a twinge, a tingling of returning sensation, a flash of insight after pervasive cold. I am the the light as it descends and I am the reflection of the light burning a phantom image in the bell curve of living. You are the inky veins drifting in and out of resolution, like the pulsating rhythm from a distant percussive rain dance. My heart forlornly shudders in its attempt to keep pace with the delicate interplay between the shadow of memory resolved in the present tense.
Persistence harbors greed and presents as a delicate, softly disintegrating web outlining desire. The clamorous, thundering, rhythm of a train returns me to the slow ebb of desaturated memory. We are seen through context, reference, and metaphor as the cipher of life. Living is a continual emergence without reference or context, a simply complicated raw arriving. I open my eyes to the glistening sound of increasing brightness and the space within the space between echoes of longing. The language of solitude in measured in incremental reflections of bliss. Pervasive, cellular, the distant howl of the animal trapped in a cage of its own design. Liberation is a choice...