A place where tears and laughter are one.
Where orgasms are formed and babies born.
Where music lives before it has a drum
or flute through which to be played.
Where all emotions abide
free of differentiation
and a deft player,
also known as a fully alive human,
can tune into any frequency
in the orchestra of feeling.

You bring me here.
Your breath,
warm on my neck in the golden morning,
the dew of my yearning.
How can one person
feel so many things at once?
The paradox of love is its confusing contradictions.
The concoction of our love,
a heady brew;
sometimes heavy,
sometimes the softest cream and honey
inviting a divine drunkenness
where nothing is solid, none of what I have known now certain.
And everything that lies below
is brought to the surface.
Where I am dizzyingly drawn
to the space between.
Not here, not there.
Spacious, yet bonded.
Formed of the distillation, the burning away of dross
until there is only us.
Where there are no definitions,
no conscription of emotions into easily identified vowels and syllables.
The home of sense, where lives all of our laughter and all of our tears,
and the hope and fear of years ago and to come,
and yet also only this one,
full, holographic moment.

I breathe slowly when you hold me
so that I can melt into the space between breaths
as I open into the formless endless galaxies
in the space between our bodies.
Pressed flesh to flesh
and pulse to pulse
where we come together beyond histories and wishstories,
One with the Mystery, crying and giggling at the same time.