At the end of all my longing,
In the dissolution of
My craven hunger,
I feel something open in me.

Not with any ferocity.

I open slowly,
Delighting in each scent,
The touch of my own fingers
Exploring
The softness of my belly,
The texture of the blanket on my back.
Just an ordinary blanket!

Slowly I rise.

You are calling me.

Beloved.

Beloved.

I feel your touch,
Winding its way down to the nape of my neck.
You stop,
Caress me softly,
For a moment that seems to contain
Every single thread of time
Woven through the ages.
As if we were never parted.

I feel your touch
Slither down my back,
Beneath my hair,
In soft ringlets,
Of fire.
At once alive,
With the scorching heat
Of your passion,
And cool to the touch.

Your presence is utterly soothing.

Beneath your scintillating touch,
I come alive,
Awaken,
For the first time and for all time.

You stoke
My own long dormant
Quietly smoldering
Fire.

It ascends.

Suddenly I no longer know
Where you begin
And I end.

You have entered me.