If it were amaranthine
Before infinity was met,
Passion would exhaust,
Tension would deplete. 
But when the body strains
And struggles for breath,
When minds escape
And collapse in stress,
When limits have margins
And time strives forward;
In that duality,
A discovery unfolds.
A magnetism, drawing near
An inviting engine:
What a restive thing,
The body is. 
Is flesh not the way
To drink from otherhood,
To taste the not-I,
Satiate the ever-flowing 
Fountain of appentence,
To see the unhinged
Limitless beauty of creation,
To blur the edges of truth,
And feel the authenticity
Of her?