Love as Mendicancy

My hands unfold and their emptiness is always a stormy ocean of whisperings.
Sometimes there are also night screams vocipherating secrets.
Je t'aime, je t'aimerai. This navigation goes beyond the season of roses and sunshine.
I recall your mouth reposing on my hands as the embodied idea of infinity within us.

Our danse belongs to our emergency. It begins on the walls, develops on the floors and aims the ceilings of a future song.
I have begged you to burn my body and to spread its ashes on the flowing essence of your Angst.
Our bodies dried, thirsty, looking for moons and rivers among the metaphors of our skin.

My hands unfold and their emptiness is always an inner spring of tears.
Can we drink it and survive?
Love transcends all lovers and demands self-transcendence.

A reason for living is a reason for dying.