Almost Encounter

Almost Encounter

She was touching me with her eyes,
her secret staring search for my soul.
A lash in movement, her casual guise
was known by the reflex, avoidance toll.

Yet feeling the sureness of contact,
we both kept our places, our perspective.
We watched, and measured, each new fact...
and fanned heart to an intimate elective.

Touch me, my thoughtful eyes said...
and lead me into your sweet reality.
I will breathe with you before bed,
and savor your shy, dreamsoul veracity.

Push not, nor grin at me like a boy
came her sustained look at me...
I need assurance that I’m not your toy.
My passion, and heart, will be free.

Feeling, we knew in an instant hours,
for she saw strength, I compassion.
Power and refinement senses ours,
with social eyes, a touch of fashion.

I danced. Alone and with steadiness,
I flowed full negative, full positive.
I wanter her to see, not need guess
desires from feelings that are causative.

Balance was mine, and I had no weight
as I spun central ecstasy on one foot.
To dance a tantric knowledge, no date,
to show energy into which dreams put.

She flickered, my awareness went in...
as I spun a complex rythym on the floor.
Karmic archetypes, a confusion of sin,
and I didn’t see her look at the door.

Warmth... was it her close, sweet breath?
Excitement... was she aware, looking?
Tension: did mind project energy death?
Sensation: was it Kali I was cooking?

I stopped still. I looked directly at her.
In her eyes amazement, doubt, and worry.
In mine, confidence and age, I’m sure.
I flashed sadness, then not to hurry.

I hold her image, still, and me aware...
and her movement towards me, past me.
She showed me that she did indeed care,
but in compassion she shook her head “no”.
Not me.

Touching me with her sensitive eyes,
and calling to my prouder spirit,
aura mingling was her only prize.

Passion? Well some people fear it.

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