She sat in a fullness and a pure
potency that was like apathy, mindless and immobile. She was next to
him, and hung in a pure rest, as a star is hung, balanced unthinkably.
Still there remained a dark lambency of anticipation. She would touch
him. With perfect fine finger-tips of reality she would touch the
reality in him, the suave, pure, untranslatable reality of his loins of
darkness. To touch, mindlessly in darkness to come in pure touching
upon the living reality of him, his suave perfect loins and thighs of
darkness, this was her sustaining anticipation.
And he too waited in the magical steadfastness of suspense, for her to
take this knowledge of him as he had taken it of her. He knew her
darkly, with the fullness of dark knowledge. Now she would know him,
and he too would be liberated. He would be night-free, like an
Egyptian, steadfast in perfectly suspended equilibrium, pure mystic
nodality of physical being. They would give each other this
star-equilibrium which alone is freedom.
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