I have sought to cultivate a pause.
To shed the world, my fear, possessions
like inhibitions, falling away, clean.
Leaving a life no more or no less than itself.
My hands roam over words,
Weaving, tracing, divesting control,
The noise and distraction.
I pull back against the material of my own
Creation, the fabric of you, the tension
systematically elevating the color,
the pattern, the contours against my skin.
Over and under, more perfect than either of us alone.
Thoughts on the Sixth Chakra