a tiny end, another beginning

After our conversation that one night last week I found a peace seldom felt these days. Before the lullaby of our breaths and heartbeats had carried us to sleep, it came. I had you so perfectly cradled in my arms you could not wiggle. And you did, but my embrace is steady from patient years spent practicing for these moments. Your desires had you uninhibited. When your body wants something you do things you do not understand, it is just a feeling which must be indulged. But the moment revealed to me a great vision when you finally let yourself go. You brought it to me when you returned from a leisurely splash in a green sea. Your salty waves carried lost lust ashore.

This vision had you laying upturned upon my chest, and I was the foundation for the comfort you were furiously nurturing. Since we were already pushing such fresh boundaries I felt to free to talk, and the truth in the words I found were of our great peace which had risen and fallen. I had never known peace until I had met you. I talked to you about the moments we had shared which were most dear to me. From the chaise lounge to the nest, in war and in peace, through travels, chairs and tables, our tiny moments of purity had really followed us everywhere, I had thought. But now I must wonder where it was lost.

In your peaceful afterglow, we froze and I was finally able to remember amidst the calm after all our recent battles. One story I had forgot, a tale from our antiquity. Genesis. It begins like waking from a dream. Remembering a wet summer night who lingers in the morning's feverish fog. It happens swiftly. We sit in limestone pools and feel the cold stream's current rush through us. We are not alone, but what we shared was only ours no matter who was there and what was told. You are virgin soil, beauty so natural that it inspires imagination. Yet seeing you left nothing to imagine; the glimpse gave only longing.

Water is draped around us, quickly trying to cool us. Our bodies flirt with the cool cascades. We are so cool. We enter the wet prism of Buttermilk's forbidden stream, and the black striped lines of Ithaca's curved geology frame us for our shot at love. The water falls around your neck and shoulders like a dress, with showers of pearly beads sprinkled upon your chest. But your eyes are open bright and as the scene all around us fades we join together in a spotlight. There are looks. There is touch. Below the shadows of the water's dark mirrors there are two creatures who desire. We give in and slide down into the next pool, together. This is how desire moved us. This is how time changed us.

Our story ends and the scene is about to change. May this young heart's folly never rest.