Then with their bodies still fixed against the universe of bed sheets, they considered the unknown worlds between them, with love like the moon rising in approximate alignment; gradually illuminating then eclipsing one to the other, in a revelation darker and more beautiful than the night sky.
Then on the first Sunday, after the world was created, they rested in a loose embrace against crumpled sheets. In the gentle breezes, that lifted the white lace at the window, the coolness of the approaching rain came to their bodies; a whisper from the universe, confirming that lent was over.
There was also the sound of the sea. There was also the honesty of your gaze. There was also Time’s movement in light passing through an aperture to capture the transient moment in a static record; stronger than memory.