Move slowly.
Don’t speak.
Close your lips unless to kiss his;
don’t ask him where this is going
or want beyond this night.
Be present.
Unfurl your fingers and
clasp his head in your hands
and lean in.
Lean in, deep into now.
Right here.
Let his hands slip to your back
and be caressed by the magnetic pull
connecting you to him.
Do not taint this intimacy
with hazy ideas of what a moment might amount to—
where is the value in that?
You dilute his desire for you
in questions of what is next.
Ask instead: what do you have to give?
Everything.
Every detail of every feeling
that has you perched on your toes
weightless to this moment—
because the next is not yours to know.
What plan?
Your heart’s pace doesn’t quicken for the future
but for now;
Love does not follow a time line.
And passion dances erratically,
without a pattern to step to.
Step into it.
Let the immediate entanglement with love
captivate you.
Let it have you.
Allow your need to know to
collide with your doubts and disintegrate
—dustlike—
so that your immediate truths might
light like kindling
and enrobe you in the heat of the moment
as they say.
They who know that Love is not an
exchange, that expecting more than now
thins the path of possibility.
Walk that path with ease,
let him take your hand and wander,
slowly,
present,
with your heart as your guide
and your mind fascinated
at the unfolding of your Love story.
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