He can move in and out of her
as Rumi lovers do,
the type of lover
who knows your body
before he touches,
the sort that knows everything
by asking.
The one to please,
send you off with prayers
give you god pleasure,
madly
make sex turn to love.
Turn society to a foreign entity
in the sky of rich Canadian light
on a plane, behind the dreamy clouds,
an absurd projection from a dream,
you can touch ceilings, foreign skies
heights of such magnitude
that mountains become envious.
He makes the feeling of time slide,
unforgettable ungodly hours
the body is spiritual,
over-loved and not hated,
between brilliant fantasy and bird-chirping reality
the opening of her soul—
One with one another
for hours of sexy darkness,
hours of flesh
two spirits in one body
made to flow in love’s unity
as a perfect shape, one
from the first glancing moment, they knew
as Rumi lovers know,
how to navigate
each other’s thoughts, soul,
pink skin,
their bodies, one poem on a page
Photo Credit: letmebeyourswearword Flickr via Compfight cc
**their bodies, one poem on a page**
From another RUMI lover.
Gorgeous.