One

Childhood rote learning has taught me ponds dissolve into streams, streams into rivers, rivers into seas and seas into oceans...ocean waters become clouds and fill in the streams and it is one unending cycle of losing one's self and being born again.
I'd like my body to dissolve into yours, my being becoming one with your being-these limbs would melt into water and stream into the water that your limbs become. Seamlessly. Without making too much sound barring the faint gurgling only attentive ears can detect. The water will seep through the pores on your fingers, elbows and ankles and flow through the cacophony of your veins.
 It'll be me in your head, in your feet and inside your throbbing fingertips.
The water will drip from the tips of my hair and dip into my back running in thin rivulets before they finally disappear.
 It'll be you in my head, in my feet and inside my throbbing fingertips.
My tongue shall envelop the few stray drops and it'll be you once again-within the darkness of my voice and the redness of my throat.
In me you shall be lost, in me you'll be found again. As a wordless song my lips will utter one rainy morning in bed.
In you I shall be lost, in you I'll be found again. As a string of words your fingers will breathe out one still humid night when not a leaf will move.