I thought it was romance
rising up like a tide from within
the surge coming forth and filling
our bodies in the begin
of having at the sweet of it
I was in the forethought of animation
but then you turned into all-pour
every now and then
I found myself captured
in front row audience to you
taking still-shot impressions
as if memory was more the worth
then fluid-motion would overwhelm me
ignited grace would dance forth
having thoughts were footnotes
fading fast into the surround
everything thought to be solid
became liquid celebrating the ourselves of it
movement was language pronouncing
as in the converse
that there were ever stopgaps to life
seemed so far away as if ever
for then, as if remembered against for now
churn is turning dance into delight
as all that could be said
spoke as movement
it was not conversational
as if as questions followed by answers
or remarks and then retorts
harmonies were a given as sizzling
fluids of being, requiring no names
we were going beyond
where questions question
and where answers,
in a timing respectful fashion, respond
there was this hammock of us, slung
from horizon to horizon
the secrets of nature
finally let us in
as the whispers became all the hum
full body became the worker-bee joy
all the senses relaxed on the intake
for in these moments
when fear of the ocean disappears
and all of the swim is oceanic organic embrace
where the palate of beingness
is not posing or the projection of stances
and passion has no positions of itself
as the on-come of urge
there, right there,
the cycle of human liquidity is in full flow
for this, as recognition,
does not take a stance
the purpose of full bloom
has now become the broadcast of presence
there is no sense of need
no photos to be taken
no memories to be made
but the isness, of itself, lives on
giving forth from within
and all of this, completes of itself
as if oneness is coming into its own . . .
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