Woven

There really

aren’t any

accidents of time

because Eternity

is a sleepless weaver

whose hands

never rest

and even though

we never got

the timing quite right

in this lifetime

our story doesn’t end here

because

she has already woven

our love

into her tapestry

without a beginning

and without an end

For my hands

are a flurry

of stitches

never still

upon her form

One hand

letting her

feel something

deep on her throat

One hand

letting her

feel something

deep within her chalice

caressing those

places that

make her dance

She is both

grounded and alive

Throbbing

to the beat

of my wants

Her softness is holy

and I am

the only one

who has earned

the right

to touch

this ache

I lean close

and whisper

what other

cravings

are lurking

in your darkness

for my demons

love darkness

and they want