The Touch of Your Swarm

There is something amiss
In that limbo’s lost place,
Where that closing kiss
Is as close as your face.

And I’m weightless that night
Without shape or form,
Lost in our cavernous plight,
Found by the touch of your swarm.

Our hands so furtively tender,
Our innocence, soft with need,
A pure Knowing trying to render
A truth from a beautiful seed.

And how simply I want to be held
And hold you against all fear,
In that limbo, we started to meld,
In this one, we are exquisitely near
To something perpetual that wants
To resurface, replenish and bloom
Like all the lost souls that haunt
The dream that our love would assume.

Copyright Kosmogonic 2018

One thought on “The Touch of Your Swarm

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