Sunday Morning

Sunday morning - before the world has turned too far. A golden silent Sunday morning, like memory.

You lie there, caught in that deep warm pool between sleep and wakefulness, caught in the world of dream reality and timelessness. Your heart beat slow as time itself. Just breathe.

[Santa Maria, Santa Teresa, Santa Anna, Santa Susannah

Santa Cecilia, Santa Copelia, Santa Domenica, Mary Angelica

Frater Achad, Frater Pietro, Julianus, Petronilla

Santa, Santos, Miroslaw, Vladimir

and all the rest]

He arrives silent, spiritual, a warm ghost crossing from night to day, from dream to life, from night to Sunday morning. You don't wake, don't move. Just wait. Just breathe. But your heart knows: a double beat, a treble to to start the world turning.

[a man is placed upon the steps, a baby cries

and high above the church bells start to ring

and as the heaviness the body oh the heaviness settles in

somewhere you can hear a mother sing]

The bed moves slightly as he eases himself behind you. In your dream you smile a little, the slightest twitch, the first wakeful moment. But still you immerse yourself in the warm pool. Not wanting to lift towards the light, not able to move for comfort constraining you. His arms go round you, lifting you slightly to reach under, round and up. His upper hand rests on your shoulder warm and burning. His lower is a butterfly kiss on your stomach.

A distant song is playing, two female voices soaring to the heavens and singing to the angels.

[then it's one foot then the other as you step out onto the road

how much weight? how much weight?

then it's how long? and how far?

and how many times before it's too late? ]

You hear the breath, the slightest exhalation caresses you. And you wait. Stars turn and die, The galaxies become cinders and memories and then not even that. At last, at last he kisses your neck. So gently, so softly that you're not even sure. Is this the memory of another life? But your heart knows, and beats again.

and you realise that his hand on your shoulder is moving down, the burning glacier. And his hand on your stomach is moving round, in the smallest circles, the lightest touch incendiary on your nerves, lighting fires throughout your dream, throughout your body. And your heart beats again.

[calling all angels

calling all angels

walk me through this one

don't leave me alone

calling all angels

calling all angels

we're cryin' and we're hurtin'

and we're not sure why...]

And now you are aware, the heat from his body fuels your heart, slow golden flames, still in dream reality. But so much hoping it is - will be for ever - real. Kisses drift from neck to ear, the oldest feeling and the newest. his hands are still, so light, moving gently. Your mind calls "there", "there" and "please". But you are still so silent, keeping your silent stillness. Except your heart, for it knows and leaps and loves and ....begs.

Time is speeding up. your body is waking up and waiting, waiting, waiting ("There", "There", "There"). His hand has moved from your shoulder, forward, round and down. Slowly getting to the first "there". Too slowly. You've stopped breathing, all you can think about is the point, the contact, the heat from his hand. And just before the touch when you will be able to breathe again his hand lifts and jumps to cup the curve of your breast. ("Tease, Tease")

Now you start to move, pushing backwards to find his shape. Minute movements in a slow dance.

[and every day you gaze upon the sunset

with such love and intensity

it's almost...it's almost as if

if you could only crack the code

then you'd finally understand what this all means ]

He gives you the smallest bite on your ear lobe. Sunday morning is split by a jolt of lightening, electricity that flashes from your head to your toes. Now you breath, an intake of air, a sound, perhaps it's even a gasp. You sense his smile as he tracks his lips back down your neck. Now you're sure, this is morning, this real, this is now.

And he touches your nipple ("There!"). It's so hard, so suddenly, so.....connected to the rest of your body. His hand, slightly calloused, rubs you slowly and catches the centre of your soul and all of your attention. Now you're smiling too.

His lower hand pulls you against him gently. You help and in moving, touch the furnace heat of his body. His hand on your breast is more insistent but also freer. He strokes down your side in movements as soft as down, as hard as steel.

[but if you could...do you think you would

trade in all the pain and suffering?

ah, but then you'd miss

the beauty of the light upon this earth

and the sweetness of the leaving

You can feel him, hard in the small of your back. You want to turn to face him, to face what turns your world this Sunday morning, but he holds you tighter than before. Deep in his chest you can hear an almost purr. His upper hand returns to your nipple and rubs it harder, and then the other. Your heart knew from the start. This perfect now is just a beginning. The slow golden fire is whiter, hotter. Your wants become wider. Now you actively help, lifting a knee in invitation.

His lower hand has been ignored for too long and you push it downwards. ("There.... now there").

His teeth on your shoulder provide just enough pressure to remind you that this isn't just your dream. Isn't just any dream. And suddenly he cups you and it isn't a dream at all. 'There' no longer counts. Heart, body, soul are screaming "Now" and more quietly, back a bit, they're whispering "Please".

calling all angels

calling all angels

walk me through this one

don't leave me alone

callin' all angels

callin' all angels

we're tryin'

we're hopin'

we're hurtin'

we're lovin'

we're cryin'

we're callin'

'cause we're not sure how this goes]

The song has finished, its slow heartbeat replaced by a more urgent pulse. The light on the curtains is brighter, sharper. It's been a long time since night. A long time since dreams and spirits.

The hand that cups you presses harder but not hard enough, not now. This moment defines you, your body has no edges, no boundaries. As he touches you, you are everywhere drawn by his hands. Each small movement discovers more, opens more, explodes a little more. Your body has become like light itself: heavy, molten, white and more alive. Alert in this dream like never before. Each move of his hands catches the air and pulls it from your body, small gasps.

His lips bite gently at your ears, your neck, your shoulder. His lower hand is now massaging your breasts with more urgency. ("Oh God, please let this never stop")

Behind you his body starts to move, a new beat, a new song. Shifting perceptibly. Now he lifts your knee, taking the chance to stroke the inside of your thigh. This undiscovered country is a map of new nerves. You can no longer separate the individual parts of your body except one ("There", "Now", "Please"). He brushes you...a butterfly brushes you? Running his fingers over and up and down, and again...again. You quiver, trapped in the light like a small animal. Your intellect, words, volition have all deserted you. You are light, and warmth, and heartbeat. More and more you are moisture and need.

You are totally his. ("I surrender")

He has been slowly moving to reposition and now the stroking fingers are replaced ("Yes" "Now"). You can feel his thickness, rubbing against your outer lips, replacing fingers with something more basic, more needy, more welcome. He moves slightly, just enough torture every nerve in your body, just enough to match your shallow breaths. But as you stretch to welcome and receive him you feel the smile on your neck again. He stops. Everything stops. Once again the stars rotate and supernovae flare. Once again you can't breath, can't think ("Tease" "Tease")

Again he moves, a steady slow pulse and his hand drifts round to rub your clitoris. Fire, electricity, shock tugs air into your chest and expels it in short sharp shots - these are gasps.

And still he moves in that slow steady pulse. The meeting point wet from you, from him, from lust, from fantasy and dreams. This must end. This can't end.

But he pulls away again to change the angle, to put his tip....("There")...to....

Just breathe.

....to...

Heartbeat stops

....to....

In one swift moment he pushes himself completely inside you. And he is yours, and you are his and you are nobody but stars. Nobody but heat. Nobody but growing light.

Now his rocking triggers new urgencies. THIS is need, all that came before a pale shadow of this Now, this Time, this You. You move to match his rocking, pushing yourself upon him, pushing him deeper and deeper into your body, into your heart, into your soul. For the first time he makes a sound, a small gasp of his own that tells you that it is not all one-sided. That it might be more even than it seemed. That his heart is beating. And you imagine then that you can feel it against your back.

Together you move and stretch and try...reaching to get closer and deeper and closer. Still finding new areas of need ("There") but now he goes there and there and there changing rhythm to reach those other parts to make it more complete. This is your time.

A new sunrise starts, not in the east but deep inside your body. No less golden and white and molten than the Sunday morning rising outside. This Sun comes more quickly, rises less gradually but fires the same new life, the same new day. Now you cannot breath, the air is too thick, the time required too long. And the new sun is in your eyes and in your fingers and in you. Deep in you, where you can feel his firmness, can feel his strength, can feel his movement.

And this Sun comes more quickly....an....an....(indrawn breath at last) ...an....explosion. A purifying fire rushes over you, through you again and again. Now the angels have come for you. You hear them in each small death, each small breath. You cry out in sadness for the world, in awe at its beauty. You cry out in sadness that this must end. Pain and pleasure have no meaning against this totality, pure feeling, pure light.

Even as you start to slow, start to breath again you feel a different beat a different urgency. behind you, round you he flexes stronger and less gentle than before. His movements in you become fiercer, the purring beast now shows his power and his demands. Now the pulse is rising, two hearts, two bodies faster. This is passionate and primitive and ignites a different fire in you. Force him upwards, force him to share your light. Or share his. This is a dancing fire on a cave wall, this is the edge of darkness.

You can feel his body tensing, concentrating, focussed. and it sends you into the light again. A surprise as it catches you and lifts you, hands clenched, screaming rising. You feel, deep inside you that he becomes harder than ever, tighter than ever. Until he shudders and you shudder again.

And breath.

For one moment drawn out the world is just you two. Sweat and fire and burned out nerves that aftershock you still.

At last you can move again. to stretch and relax. To link back up to your body.

He leans on one elbow and cups your cheek pulling your face round a little to kiss your lips.

"Good morning my light."