The water waits on us as we lay upon the sand. Waiting, waiting for our bodies to become one. You say, "I do not know how to swim” and I say, “I will teach you” . But that is a lie, it is the water that will instruct us both. We walk into the water until it laps at our stomachs, it surrounds us... our fingers, toes, breasts, tongues, lips, our naked bodies held by the ocean’s soothing caress. The water doesn't think of our fear. It holds us. It sways our bodies. The water cannot sense our doubts, our joy, it only senses we're there waiting within it, another tiny thing suspended in its grip. My hands under your back are like small hover crafts balancing you in the water that holds our smiles. Our lips and tongues meet in a tender and watery dance. The ocean doesn't know we’re smiling, doesn't sense our urgent breath, it is without conscience, yet exhaling with us. It could easily wash us away if it knew our thoughts, the evil outside of this moment, instead i...
(The Weaver's Song)