In the velvet arms of the darkness, freedom is only a thought away. Exposed to the night, visions play with ideas in the limitless void. There, in the shadowed womb, senses blend together to tastetouchhearsmell know the mysteries of everything and forget the burdens of anything. Falling loosely out of the confines of logic and the bindings of law, flesh kisses air, wisdom tastes love, and knowledge embraces the unknown. No light is needed to see what the heart knows. No chains are required to bind that which is linked through time and space, experience and memory. Falling through time-dimmed recollections, velvet arms become pale-skinned and strong. Starbeams wear lips that bear kisses sweetened by time and longing that overcame all odds to be tasted. In the dark they are welcome enough hauntings. Old tears sprout wings and fly up among the blanket of night, drifting free to range as stars wandering orbits they need no light to know. The comfort of familiarity is as warm as the embrace of a cherished friend. The bottomless pit of hunger is as deep as unfulfilled passion. Unrestrained by the light of day, there is no reason not to fall in. Or was that a dive? The darkness will never tell that secret. Where breath falls soft against your ear, it will not have to. In the dark, open to all things and hidden from all things, you know all you need to. Where fingers stroke your skin, they tell you enough. Escaped from the confines of day, kisses roam wild to all the hills and valleys they are denied in the harsh light of fact and law. Exposed to all the obscure possibilities in this freedom, where chaos reigns and logic has no ground, only sweat knows the roads that fingers travel or the wishes breathed hoarsely through the fire-link of lips. In the dark, two are made one and not even a blur can say where one begins and the other ends because in the dark, bodies have no bounds not felt by skin upon skin and heat within heat. Unchained, exposed, and willing, freedom soars on fierce wings of passion. There are no boundaries in the night. There are only wings on love.
© Sonja Torres 2000