The subtle movements that these pulsing threads of bodies
make in sleep weave together in a fabric of lucid dreaming.
As we sink together in the fluidity of this dark brilliance
I may seem to move closer to you in our drowning,
though between us now no distance exists, no anchor
of our weightless past, nor feather of a future.
When you finally appeared before me I knew you instantly,
in the same way I recognize my own face in the mirror.
I knew you by your happiness, which is my happiness —
no need to fabricate what always was and is.
The absence of any effort is a proof of authenticity,
though we required no proof — in the glad shining radiance
of mutual recognition we embraced, then broke out laughing!
I only came here to be with you.
You called out from the heart: “Come to me, Beloved!”
I fell out of a dark, sightless world, emerging naked
from a formless womb of emptiness, arms outstretched.
I awakened to love, for you are love. You woke me to you,
to this love – I, who am nothing but your own love, awakening
to you, beyond conception, beyond these poignant fragile forms.
When we lay down together again in that perfect posture
of love’s sweet culmination, there will be no foreign place
where love leaves off and something else steps in.
In wispy worlds of passionate invisible molecules —
the soulful steam of our evaporation — there may persist
a lingering trace of the perfume of our passing.
What remains of us:
a flashing memory of aromatic light, my falling into you,
you falling into me, no ripple, no arch of glassine rainbow,
only sky, the endlessness of blue-black space –
the Unspeakable, inhaling, exhaling,
almost . . . almost . . . smiling