Standing naked in her sweat, she jotted down a flow of alphabet letters, converging and diverging as they wished to:
"Lover of mine
Are you able not to shiver
Like an autumn leaf
In the winds of my longing
Are you capable to juggle between
My thirst and hunger of thousand years
To sip the dews off your body on a starless night
Nibble on your drowning gazes at my foreign depth
Spooning you between breeze and storms
While expanding your heart to the stillness of compassion
Stealing anger out of your character, judgement too
To help you grasp what co-creation means, not discipline
Walking the tight threads of your light and shadow
I observe you troubled by useless games on guilt
while knowing the inches of your body and soul
That float within a symphony of love, mine
Pacing myself into sweat
I contemplate how to seduce you back into being
Instead of your chosen marination in tedious calculations
Poetry is not to be scored from afar rather lived within
I sprinkle Archangels unto your body, new Demons too
Merging them with the wetness of my lips on your cells
To take you back to your wholeness within Oneness
Before what you have ever remembered or tried
Pre dawn, the void of Pure Source
Lifting us through a portal of lust
What mandala am I to draw on your translucency
To tease your Holy Spirit back to interaction
Lover of mine
Whom I have not meet ... still."
... Then she stepped in, under cold water to keep her exhale deep within, muting her voice into more talkative body. Her gaze kept twinkling, imprints of an everlasting fantasy. Or not.
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