Poetry : Making Love. 


Are we making love without our bodies?

Are we renouncing the fixed form

for the indefinable?


Is this what we share?


It seems so deep that it cannot make sense,


even to ourselves.


What is this middle way that belongs 

neither to passive friendship,

nor active passion. 


but a spiritual sensuality

that reveals a sacred centre?


We cannot construct form

out of this formless dimension,


only let our hearts run with the wind,


until we land in the field,


far away from all that we’ve known before.


Your presence impacts upon Sant. 


my meagre existence,

even though your hands abide in hesitation.


You leave me to wonder what this dance is all about.


Sant thinks is it Love of Forbidden Trance ?

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