He is a driving music man
Whose beats match something
In the rhythm of my soul-song.
Resistance is futile,
So I grab the bags and turn the key.
This road trip has not begun
So much as continued along a vein of possibility.

My thoughts are liberated, yet
     Spirit strains against
     Self-imposed discipline,
     And I wake in the morning
     With my toes curled
     ‘Round an ohm.

So how do I stop the thing inside
That wants you inside me?
     I don’t give into it.
     I don’t give time to that clamor.
And how do I generate that cessation,
That unchained sensation,
So I’m no longer grasping?
     I release it.
     I release the weight of the words unsaid.
     I release the flutter of constant dread,
     I release that hold upon myself,
    That waiting. . . .

Because I will no longer stand irresolute
And poised for flight, or a fight
Because that soul-sound thrums a deep-root-muladhara,
This is my samsara:

How you coax me with rose hips and lips.
It strips me bare,  and
I have to come to grips
With this desire, this burning must.
This gremlin consumes my time
In simply observing you.

You walk before a room
     And command attention without repartee.
You heal with your smile and your food
     And the lightest touch against my fingers.
You know with your heart,
     And you share it.
You feel into logic
     And disseminate it.
Your beauty takes my star and
    Sets it on a new course.

So the soul-strings we tie,
Those vibrating loops of enigma,
Will only serve to keep us bound.

We seek liberation
Within this friendship-bliss, and

I’ll break my chains
Before that kiss.
Heart craves art,
And so I write to smite fetters,
Not forming love letters
But sharing pieces of sky.

We may be joined in spirit,
And I feel your heart beating
Within my chest most nights.
We are mirrors, each for the other,
And my need no longer stops me
Because the part of me that resides within you
Is already free.