I Thought Of This As I Passed In The Hallway And You Looked Up While Drying Off After Stepping Out Of Your Sunday Shower
in a lover's eye one can see something, perhaps, a glint of the potent
beauty we all long to be when we giddily cast our fate to the whims
of desire, and even if we have never pranced high steeping at the front
of satisfaction's parade most of us have nevertheless stood close
enough to the drumming to reflect the shudder of sensuality coiled
within the trembling of impatient flesh awaiting the release of touch
who needs to apologize for feeling good, for opening the soul
to the bliss experience, especially when we consider our hearts
observe neither stopwatch nor timetable upon tasting the sincerity
sweet of a tear or two when a special person voluntarily confesses
their resolve to attempt to be better than the frailty we all inevitably are
whenever carrying the ball of contradictions commonly called love
in this briefness we transubstantiate, visit the angelic state whose reaching
we humans are capable of grasping but oh so seldom achieve
—kalamu ya salaam