It rushes through like a drug
injected with your gaze.
A longing that weighs heavy on the heart;
Sentimental, like a memory lovers keep
and sacred, like the moon.
We move like tenuous wings
beating in rhythm
in places wild and forbidden.
Sweat and mouths mingle-voluptuous thieves.
They leave us dancing in the night
woven and weary, spun into musky linen.
And we nomads
will wander days unmumbered
to find what time will give us,
what memories lovers keep, and
what lies sacred in our reach.