You no longer embrace
any thing.
You embrace what embraces.
Collapsing into the hollow
vortex of namelessness
that swirls up your spine,
'neither Being nor Non-Being'
as a Buddhist scholar
might say, nobly
protecting himself from
passionate annihilation.
But you do not hide
your black ancient yearning
behind abstractions.
You nakedly immerse
in a shimmering emptiness
that generates the musk
of the womb and the bugle
of the elk-horned male.
You enter the wild
and dare to call it love.
The dark.