#4: the daring strains of this human sphere-dance

her body sings with his, sings to the sound of a cosmic symphony, of oneness and wholeness, of being nothing more than a mere speck seen from the telescope of entirety yet a contributing part to the complete. her heart sings with his, sings to the colours painted by strings and woodwinds, to the rhythm of the march of the percussions, to the brightness of the brass, all led by glittering lights spread across black velvet nothingness, its depth unfathomable, its vastness unprecedented. her mind sings with his, sings to the simple, little things like waking up in the morning and having a cup of coffee while watching the slope of his back as he pours himself one, like quiet talks of nothingness, like bonds of a molecular level now extended to that of the soul – entities seemingly separate, reaching out, singing together, fingers gently touching, intertwined. there, occasionally, lies an entire universe between them, but they smile, at the universe, at each other, watching in companionable silence as every particle goes about on its orbit, its natural course, occasionally colliding into another world, extending a hand in kind, holding, to each other, to her hand, to his hand, connected.

About Tony the Octopus

I move from tanks to tanks, oceans to oceans, and am not related to Paul.
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