Poem on Sex

Bodies is what I imagine with Sex

Bodies curled up and wrapped together

Bodies looking to grab any bond

Bodies bind together to belong

Bodies holding each other to grasp

Bodies shouting to be heard

Bodies staring into each other with naked eyes

Bodies falling into each other with hope to stick with the flesh

Bodies moving into each other to experience the depth

Bodies branching out each other to grow higher

Bodies forming positions to align with one another

Bodies coming together to unite their parts

Bodies passing currents to each other

Bodies tying into each other

Bodies lightning with each other in the dark

Bodies shredding the flesh to find that’s hidden

But oh, silly me, cannot see

I just see the body’s Experience or Expression of Sex

I cannot see the breath that curling and wrapping in these fleeting moments 

I cannot see the bond sunken into the merge of energies

I cannot see the energy pulled into the innate belonging

I cannot see the release of energies into each other

I cannot see rhythm of energies vibrating to shift the Whole

I cannot see the energy removing the illusion of nakedness

I cannot see the energy surrendering into the gooey source

I cannot see the expanding of the energy that forms the surface called depth 

I cannot see the energy rooted in for the expression of growth

I cannot see the energy in alignment to form One

I cannot see the union of energy that magnetise the parts

I cannot see the energy that opens the cells to embody the current

I cannot see the energy swirling like a thread to form the fabrics of the knot

I cannot see the rising of the energy that binds the light with dark

I cannot see the branching of the energy unfurling from beyond

And Just with this my heart beats and there cast in front of it

The vision of how these bodies, the very gateway to experience the unknown

They are sacred, as a breath

Their senses, like paths which elongate into every dimension with every foot of presence and connect to the source

The ceremony of beings, the rituals of sensualities

Every movement resonating with the divine rhythm

There in I Paused and realised

Sex, Art of Energy On the canvas of Body with Colours of Divine

Therefore, A travel through layers of Dimension

The question remains, Artist or Art? What do we experience or what remains to experience when two of them seems to be One?  

Oh dear, how can we name it?

When its mere experience is ever expanding even when the expression of it seems to be One?

Where it lies?

In the intensity, in the mundanity and everything in between.

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