There Are No Words In the Temple

There are no words in the temple.
There’s no talking, no planning, no making excuses
No waiting, no stalling, no dodging the muses.
No right and no wrong, no late and no due.
No time no division no me without you.

There are no words in the temple.

There ARE no words.

There’s movement and body and breath and caresses
There are hips and lips and curves and confessions
There’s shaking and crying and yelling and glee,
There’s laughing and terror and everything free.

No words in the temple.

There are No. More. Words.

There is dancing and glancing and grasping a hand
There is cuddling and nuzzling and painting in sand.
There’s clutching and clinging and pushing away
There’s pleading and needing please go no please stay!

There are no words the Temple.

There are no words.

There are colors and shapes and there’s constantly change
There’s peace and there’s chaos there’s blind loving rage.
Nothing is taken and nothing is bought
Nothing is stopped, nothing gets caught
In the place without should
In the space without ought
There’s knowing it all and there’s knowing it not,
The Temple is made of the stuff before Thought.