A tender moment, lying side by side.
No want or great desire stirred a movement.
And yet the energy of love was so
completely present. Gentle touch,
the feel of healing.

Holding hands, a wayward touch.
Precious, the experience of love.
Walking in the self-same rhythm.
Movement giving way to deeper need.

Hearts reborn within an opening
of timelessness. Choking then,
upon the end - when their hands
were forced to just let go, for
the world they lived in, full of
greed and politics, insisted that
it must so.

A tender moment, living out of time.
How endlessly this love sublime
retrieves its memories...

? Michaelette ?