ONE-TO-ONE METAMORPHOSIS

When we were both looking into each other's ageless faces, suddenly new, psychological instincts burst through the luminous emptiness of instinct to become one in the all-encompassing All. For when we see and feel the other so much, the supremacy and survival condition of Being is totally translucent, so that it can immediately give up its safe place to some more tangible, conscious emotion. 

As if we were just two cracked pieces of mirror, whose fragmented wounds infinite time will one day heal anyway - our two superstitious eyes guarded and guarded the already embellished, metamorphosis-magic of our memories like moths in a beneficent captivity, on the soft pit. 

Weeping and blinking, we are always cleansed to the core. Only one moment was enough for our confessing eyes, bright with pearls of truth, to whisper bewitching secrets to our opened consciences - then the degree of relief was always more comfortable: swaying in each other's andalusian arms, we could confess gently in the petals of kisses, and there was no need to reserve any further intoxicating absolution. 

As we found each other, with thirsting souls, we tried to find a new soul-wheel from our deeds and the faithfulness of our words, and to heal the stigmata of long-vanished wounds: the tides of our romantic feelings were always evened out, for they could seldom change. If we could set out on a journey lurking in each other's bodies, so that by conscious discovery, the tiniest cell-molecules of treasure-power could spring up at any moment. Even then, in our romantic lineaments, the One-Igain impressed...