Oxytocin

Enfolded in your arms, my sense of space
And time are gone--and in your temple cave
The little death will bring me to the grace
That lies in you until I find the grave. 
The welcome warmth of love that brings delight
Will bring me to the light, your noonday sun
That dissipated all the threats of night
That others bring, where ignorance has won.

The only thing I want to do is fold
Myself so fully into you that we
Are one--the more we make this true, we'll flee
The uselessness, stupidity untold
Of all the rest--our hate of them, our pull
Toward each other make us both feel full.