This is your book.
You know this and do not know.
My book, but yours.
I cover my tracks, your tracks,
but the forest wind blows the cover,
fickle dirt over the path,
those days in Marburg,
Meetings in the clearing.
the light there in darkness, sudden as thought.
the current that charges, my body
conducting the charge.
The touch that taught meaning. Taught light.
Your tongue in my mouth.
My hunger for that. Word and flesh.
Appetite that grew with feeding
Black wood of yearning.
Compulsion for light. Lichtzwang.