softly
the glove of life
slips over reason
slaps the knower
and slides
on the hand of the spirit
a black soul
as the darkness of space
black not like emptiness
but as mystery
moves over the waters
shinning
pulsing
streaming
surpassing all my most
eclectic expectations
she is night
and I wait for her
with each hushed breath
heaved open in my chest
captured in my throat
as a vision of love
the manifestation
of her naked beauty
wet
wanting
wonderous
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