Unfolding

The slightest brush of your presence, my body trembles, something ancient within me stirs.

My body knows before my mind can name it.

I surrender.

In the field between us, power is not domination.

It is devotion.

It is the silent promise that what unfolds here will be held with care.

I want to know nothing of your name, your history.

I want only the stories your body has to tell.

Your gaze whispers everything words cannot.

The truth your eyes have been waiting to reveal.

Dance me beyond certainty, into ecstasy.

Beyond the place where thought reaches for meaning.

Into sacred territory- body, heart, and spirit remember they have never truly been separate.

There, I am home.

It tastes of salt.

Of breath.

Of tears that ask nothing but to be witnessed.

Time loosens its grip.

We move as though listening to a melody older than memory, each gesture answering the one before it, until there is no leader, no follower, only presence unfolding.

Beneath shame.

Beneath inhibition.

Beneath the careful voice that has spent a lifetime protecting.

Something luminous awaits.

“Here I am.”

Show me the places you have hidden from the world, and I will meet you with the places I have hidden from myself.

Perhaps this is what desire has always been.

Not the longing to possess.

But the courage to be transformed.

To stand, unguarded, in the presence of another soul and discover that nothing essential was ever missing.

By Brooke Laura