and the rhythm of our bodies set off an echo in my mind.
It was the way it had been back there in that strange vision.
The gray murk lifted from my mind, and through it the light pierced into my brain (how strange that light should blind!),
and my body was absorbed back into a great sea of space, washed under in a strange baptism.
My body shuddered with giving, and her body shuddered its acceptance. This was the way we loved, until the night became a silent day.
And as I lay there with her I could see how important physical love was, how necessary it was for us to be in each other's arms, giving and taking.
The universe was exploding, each particle away from the next, hurtling us into dark and lonely space,
eternally tearing us away from each other—child out of the womb, friend away from friend, moving from each other,
each through his own pathway toward the goal-box of solitary death.
But this was the counterweight, the act of binding and holding.
As when men to keep from being swept overboard in the storm clutch at each other's hands to resist being torn apart,
so our bodies fused a link in the human chain that kept us from being swept into nothing.
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