First...nothing moved.

There was a deep hush that lay
between us.

We didn't allow ourselves to speak...for words
would have simply fallen useless to the
subtle understanding of this
silence.

Then...there was a stirring.

Perhaps the tremor began along the
fingers...or the flesh rose to
meet some unborn touch.

It doesn't matter...for anticipation is
the hope of every movement.

Desire moved slowly.

It was as if our pleasures paused in a
momentary confinement.

And we followed each moment with its
every brief passage.

First...nothing moved.

From stillness there was born a
holy motion.

And now...there is only what
continues.


Eric