Poetry

Act of the Night

I wait for the night
that brings our wandering eyes together,
I wait for the force
that slowly parts our thirsty lips.

I wait for the dark,
where words are spoken through our gestures,
I wait for the gaze
that wants us here, not from the past.

I wait
for the dream
that carries our souls beyond the silence,
for the desire
that lets our hands be held by lips.

For the moment
that rocks our bodies into fire,
I wait for the peace,
for the quiet, gentle silence.