When you hold me
my body melts into
furnac’d colours
where rainbows flow instead of blood.
When you hold me
myth becomes possible
and nothing can be misconstrued
as anything but love.
Yes when you hold me
my mind stills and orchestral voices
fan the trees, and we embody
what we were meant to be,
a living halo of our needs
wrapped in one supernal moment.
Victoria Mosley 
I know of this feeling and you have conveyed it oh so beautifully and magically with brushes and paints not words…