So you seized my trembling,
And we hurled ourselves from hushed proud rock,
As old as nothing but the sands,
We spelling ten on two tall hands.
In that descent then passed an age,
You were stillness- eyes loose in their cage,
Steady as Siddartha’s sight,
Enlightened by a sensual flight.
I, so stricken, curled and sick,
Felt then your unfurled perfection,
Your longing for sections unknown,
Your banishment of terrors sewn
As fundamentals in my skin.