So rare is that something, that special something,
That haunts and drives some part of me.
An unfulfilled sharing,
A place only visited
Yet till now, with but the tiptoe tread of
Sad, sincere reluctance.
Do you my dearest One,
Know with all those growing instincts,
Drawn from forces past.
The sweet darkness that is the goblet of my Love,
That rasping, driving Love I have for you.
A Love so cruel and in that cruelty caring and so beautiful.
A Love that blossoms as leaves fall for winter’s
Darkest day?
Oh my woman, yes you do.
You glimpse it in my piercing eyes,
As in driven moments ecstasy,
You see within my soul,
Guarded veils, unguarded for a tick of time.
See clearly how my love entwines,
With the divinity of your offered pain.
You too carry that intensity that craves,
That gnaws and seeks its re-born succour,
On the dripping teat of time’s teasing memories
Of such erotic all consuming pain.
First the fear, anticipations friend,
Yet calmed by all the deepest trust that Love instils.
The dripping, dark desire for as at last the journey does begin.
Intense pain and intense pleasure,
Wrap each other round,
And hand in hand
They lead you to that floating, rare oblivion,
A place beyond mere sexuality.
For when such union comes it is a place that few will taste.
Your perfect body sighs instead of screams
And courage to accept imparts such power to you.
Oh my wondrous, dearest Love,
So we must again, for we are compelled,
Together find that place in all its many guises,
When such moments feel comfortable and right
Warmed by the intimacy of night.
For our repeated history beckons on
And reality once tasted, replaces all our dreams.
- Date: 10th February 2011