There is no touch like your touch,
backed as it is by love.
God’s own rhythms are brought to mind:
the mounting arc of an ocean wave
in its eager steady rise
and the exquisite explosion in its plunge.
a volcano blows and lava flows,
the ashes softly flurry down
to blanket earth’s bed.
a swelling surge of lightning,
its jagged bolt thrust deeply in the ground,
the resounding thunder a herald of its rapture.
every sunset is nature’s afterglow,
and in your arms
like a brand new dawn,
a memory is born each time
your touch warms again.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I knew right away, from the description of this earth shaking event, that love would come at the end of it, and with your brand new dawn and his touch, there it was!