It is all about crosses; if you rearrange the limbs of the cross it will become a triangle; an entrance.
All limbs are arranged around Venus. Even this droplet called Earth is somewhere there.
Salome is dancing, tall and aiming high, her arms are spread wide, head is tilted back, neck is stretched, with muscles in spasm. A deep hollow at the root of her neck, where her throat should be, no neck apple to move, nothing to swallow, all her breath is out. She is lifeless, promising, and full of chances; a garden of expectations. She is agonised, lustful, yearning, arms are spread wide, dancing, like a cross.
“This Healer of mine does not get it” Raheema muttered while contemplating;
“I like him. I like being with him, united, universe-ed.
I do not even notice a luster in his pupils when I walk in, not in my black satin, not in my red satin.
Doesn’t he know that his revelation is through me? only me!
It could be something wrong in my flesh; I’ll stop eating. I want to keep my skin stuck to my bones.
Or, may be I’ll stop seeing him altogether. I’ll choose a female triangular healer.
I am so hurt.”