I am no more than subtle lines
drawn real beneath your
fingers.

I am formless.

Given form to know the grace of
your caress.

Far in the night...your eyes hold
stars in the grip of
constellations.

From distant points of light they
gather to your gaze.

There is nothing that does
not become for you.

Ask the stars.

Or simply watch me rise to
form -

In the space beneath
your hands.