Feelings

A certain poverty,

the lack of touch,
is felt as isolation of the flesh
from all that is and would be sensuous.

Long the light ponders this quandry,
playing over limpid surfaces,
tracing each plane and place,
'til at last each body is kindled
with the truth:

All that it is not
is touched by all that is;
sensual it is to be,
completely sensual,
in this ever-renewing event,
where one is, where all are,

sensed,
noted,
checked,
equated,
felt,
explored,
and known.

© 2010 by Elisabeth T. Eliassen