Poem By Comfort Zone

Let me press my seventh sense -
Upon your cardiac desire,
And transcribe -
Your each pulsating beat
Into our graphic language of love.

Let me press my chest piece -
Upon your pulmonary fire,
And phrase -
Your each heaving sigh
Into our graphic language of love.

Let me press my fingertips -
Upon your throbbing pulse,
And translate -
Your each arterial rhythm
Into our graphic language of love.

Come beloved,
Now let this inscription echo -
Our own Lotus Sutra,
Encoding our intuitive consciousness
Into our graphic language of love.

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You repose in your tortoise shell
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