Hunger or Love? copyright 1987 by Tracy Marks Openness does not have to draw upon the past history of a relationship; it can occur between strangers, and momentarily dissolve the walls between them, allowing warmth to flow. But openness is not closeness. It can be forced, premature; it can occur without a substantial connection between two persons, both eager to and needing to share themselves but unwilling or unready to receive the fullness of the other. Sharing pleasure is easy. Sunlight makes us radiant. But whether or not we can keep love alive in a thunderstorm is the true test of a relationship. We were open with each other, and in our eagerness to be close,  felt that we shared more than words, more than touch. But in a month it was over. Our meeting was intense, a flash of lightning. In our lovemaking, we merged into blissful oneness on a tower above the chaos of the city. But because we did not build a foundation to support the tower, when the humidity rose and the lightning flashed again, it crumbled, and the cloud which had been supporting us dissolved into rain. We had been feeding each other's hunger for support and nourishment, a hunger so vast that it was nearly insatiable. We were swallowing husks of unripe corn rather than waiting for the corn to ripen, be husked and be ready for eating.

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