by M. Joseph Boehler

she moves in a way that catches the last essence of sunset and the first blush of sunrise,

and the sight stirs in me the same awe if feel when the world opens in timeless light,

a breath-tightening, electric pulse that makes my skin hum, as if touched by the sky itself.

she is that bite of ripe fruit, erupting on my tongue; the sweetness spreads like wildfire through my veins,

a primal urge for more, a sensation both visual and visceral,

the world narrows to the sharp, intense moment and then expands again into endless possibility.

her existence mirrors the deep myths of the sea: stars glitter beneath the surface, waves thrash with raw passion.

in an instant the voices of marble goddesses and ancient muses raise their song,

their energy a harmony in every crest and curl, binding past and present in a single, unbroken hymn of fierce, elegant energy.

when the tide recedes and the colors soften, a quiet knowing settles within me:

true beauty never demands attention.

it is free, it is graceful, and it speaks in one language,

the language of awe that lives beyond the moment, the language of being wholly alive.