She moved so slowly
With complete ease into the turning

So much happens in no little time wasted
Not a seed, or syllable, or sound escaped the mind
And oh the deed sets deep into the quickening
Guilt of ice
Thaw of the conscience burn
Equilibrium of imperfections dancing

The perfect mirror is caught looking
And hereby seized by both ends of loving
Touching what can flower into moist blinding hatreds
Questions are in the vulva’s eye of oh the so the beautiful beholder
Wanting and wanting some freedom to feel
As the lone and whole truth holds on till the releasing

What the wars of sex now and sexed over have seen
The candle is so peaceful on its own, but there’s the match

© 2008 C.C. Arshagra