It can be realised
in two ways: by the blissful rest of the lovers in each other, which
silences all desires and apparently robs time of its tyranny.
The heart is still, and nothing can disturb
The deepest thought, the thought to be her own.
says Goethe; and a newer poet:
Close around me, wondrous being,
Wind thy magic veil oblivion,
All my heart from unrest freeing,
Let there be untroubled calm.
Give me peace; the helter skelter
Of the wide world has gone by;
And this narrow, silent shelter
Holds the potent healing balm.
By the side of this idyllic consummation of the longing for love, there
is the other, the ecstatic consummation of mutual rapture. It almost
blots out individual consciousness in the singly (no longer doubly)
felt, body and soul entrancing ecstasy; it is such sheer delight that
pleasure is no longer perceived as a distinct element, but rather is
there the consciousness of a complete transformation of life.
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