The more silent the landscape
the more intense all must be:
a hug in a desert, a war
certainly means more in silence.
No one hears you in traffic noise
and who cares about a battle
with the world dying anyway,
and we’re alone now on the beach.
One touch under all these old stars,
why can’t this moment be some more
than an encounter of bodies
like so many before us had.
The silence hasn’t made us sacred,
our moves are ancient as the world,
but it feels as if we’re the first
as no sound but the sea’s is here.