2 Flutes -First There is Silence

First there is silence. Then the echoing of eternity between two equally turned faces. Then there is the coming together of like bodies. Flesh partaking of the union. Eyes like fire. Lips like the sea. A forest of hair. The flight of birds. The swiftness of a gazelle in the heartbeat, in the touch of each to each. Oneness, oneness echoing. Echoing in the space between. And as the passion rises, as the energy rises, walls collapse and the spirit moves freely. Moves outward. Moves into vaster, still vaster places. And the boundaries of inner and outer are broken. Two lovers are alone. The world is gone. The sights, the sounds are gone. And in their hearts they know—they are the world, they are all. Whoever is the world, who knows that they are the world, touches the divine—in themselves, in everyone. And their bodies thrust and sigh and need. And then they burst, they explode. Swimming, lost in those moments of darkness. Of deep, of silent darkness. In the unleashing of that primal nothingness we all carry within us. The void, the great nothing from which the universe arose, wrapped in its mysterious holiness. We are sustained, we are nurtured in that returning to the source again. Swimming in nothingness. Weaving it into our present. And two men who cherish each other, who hold each other in those moments, they nurture in its memory, they nurture in its re-enacting, the primal birth of somethingness from nothing. Is this base? Is this vulgar? No! Divine this is. To cherish, to hold, to embrace the inheritance of time, of time born out of timelessness.