When we touch, we fly, and are no longer of the binding Earth. Our flesh becomes a moist medium by which our spirits enter Each other and then to higher worlds, each higher level a higher birth. Yet the tremendous power that moves us so is not there but within thy center. The preceding poem alludes to the idea that love and love-making create a kind of trance that then can transport the lovers to other worlds. This is also what I believe art should do.
Art is the beloved.
It is the perfect beloved projected from the artist's whole being. It is also the physical person of the beloved who takes on the burden of the lover's projection. Freud would say that my projection would have a lot of my mother in it. Experience bears this out.