breath vibrato between

but in Eros everything is in flux, I gain nothing in here but more nebulae aching indefinitely. . .

this is Hunger for It, One, You. 

this is What remains 

beyond fire and flesh within fire and flesh. 

Hunger for Other, never rest.

the tree, the garden, the bodies, are vapor of liberation, the infinite progression of non-touching the first mover within. 

I cannot know How-and-Why, the tree, the garden, the bodies, progress infinitely... otherwise than being-and-non-being. It explodes mountains of catastrophes, shades of desire. You are the Way to the Open metamorphosis. I cannot know How-and-Why.

You are the abyss Where to perspire. 

life depends upon future grounds to Desire and trembling. otherwise than being. touch my matter falling into heat waves off imaginings, yellings, Your Major Song of vapor and skin, nameless mist breaking the highest branches of fear, in me, naked me, awakening deep muscle tissues of Eros, my infant Eros, still speechless at midday, moved only by touch and smell and madness, sheer madness.

 All animals roaring in me, naked me.

And You approach the Logos of Eros, in me, naked me. 

Eros is a summons to sacrifice All-at-Once. 

You bleed within every fruit, in flux in me, naked me