We made love. How pedestrian the words look-trite, worn, practically featureless with use-but how can one better describe that which happens when it happens? That creation? That magic blending? I might say we became figures in a mesmerized dance before the rocking talisman of the moon, starting slow, so slow. . . a pair of feathers drifting through clear liquid substance of sky. . . gradually accelerating, faster and faster and finally into photon existence of pure light. . . as my whole straining body burst like fluid electricity into hers.
Mind delineates experience, and through the filter of mind, experience becomes something else; it becomes knowledge in tantra.