Afterglow Poem by John Weber

We grope and itch in our tumble,
searing the void with passion true
until my flesh throbs most humble
to stain my brain away from blue.

You sting my skin to make me long
while ravaging qualms from my core.
Perhaps we share a force most strong
to claim this flame while we implore

dancing spirits from ages past
to guard and channel our command
with regard for passions that last
beyond our bond as we expand:

a universe of collisions
and flaring stars blazing with light
over distance to share visions
still bright this night as we ignite.

Your reverberation fills me
as our hope and passion collide,
offering up a forlorn plea
to fill this thrill along our glide.