They swam naked in the sea
and sea-water dripped from their skin
and they stroked and licked each other
in the shallows, both of them
drenched in sea
Later with wavelets lapping them
they pooled sea water
in clipped hands
and for an instant saw the moon
reflected in each other’s palms.
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Beautiful! The moon in the little pools in the palms is a powerful evocative image.
The pool in the hands, and the sea of hands. Each existing with each other, infinitely is a re-occurring dream that doesn’t fade…
A Jungian therapist once told me that archetypes move us deeply, gnawing at our innards with an innate power. It comes out in our dreams to be realised.
I just sipped my tea, without a clue of
how true this was.
Beautiful poem=)
This feels like a continuation of Swimming in the Dark, although I don’t know if you had that poem in mind when writing this.
maybe so…