Lifting my hair,
the Seer whispers something prophetic—
something soft and without analogy.
(Snow comes to mind, and humming.)
And deep in the cradle of my Self, something stirs,
is ever-changed.
The genial, minded Prophet approaches,
collects his bouquet of chakras,
and kneels hard into the garden
between your thighs
and mine.
Awed over the blooming vibrancies of blush and titian,
of Selves covering Selves wrapt in soil,
we excrutiate, rejoicing.
The desperate weeping of breathy prayer floods his lips, inhaling.
Nirvana is enlightened.
And the exhale
is silent.
(Love transfixed Itself
in some quiet moment
between our eyes.)
We hush,
One.
Comments
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this is very beautiful, with out being overly erotic or sensual - you have captured this moment with spirituality and wonderful imagery - excellent poem, so many creative, wonderful lines in this
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G'Day mate
♥
Interesting write ... kinda mind-boggling for me as I have the flu and am not thinking very clearly
Gotta love the writes that spin me out
Stay safe
~Amanda
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