“Our bodies are wild swans . . .”
Our bodies are wild swans alit on the river of desire; our hearts, two waves rising to the ebb and flow of our eager breath, then diving back to their undivided source, burying space and time in the shifting sands of unfathomable abysses. The immensity calling me grants me the ocean, whole, in an embrace. And in my arms I have the same ocean for her. How can I but follow the occult wave pulling me far from earthly dampers, our Siamese bodies our only tie?
If infinity is unbridled, hers is a tie of blood and light, a bond of love that cannot be unraveled. This infinity is not neutral but feminine. It depends on the beloved to fulfill itself, but it is endowed with a demiurge power whose gods alone know the secret. What soul resists the intoxicating wine of love and the desire for the absolute quickened by the vine? What lovers don’t harbor the memory of a plenitude to be reawakened, in the holy of holies of their intertwined bodies?
We are drunk; and our intoxication never falters: five years of insolent beauty, of insolated power, five years spanning a single day, one sleepless night, travelers without luggage on a continent without seasons, in the heat wave of perpetual summer.
And then comes the fall.
Read the rest at WLT: http://www.worldliteraturetoday.org/blog/our-bodies-are-wild-swans#.VUU_BPlVikp