The Warming Of Night

I want him. I want him to make love to me. I've never felt the burn that is sin and desire like I have for him. He haunts my ever wakening, my slumber too. I find lips pursed, breast tender, and body, alert and in waiting. The thought of his touch arouses me. And his words; paradise. What have I done to deserve such temptation, such beguile and uninhibited desire. Want. Need. I need to feel him. In so many more ways then sexual. I need him to slide his hands beneath my dress, for him to feel the heat of my thigh, the wanting. I need him to press himself against me and breath-- heavily, slowly on the nape of my neck. I want to feel his body --his warmth. I want to feel him. His entirety, his soul.

But maybe She is right. Maybe I am in love with the idea, more than the man. Can you imagine? So many years. So many desires. So much waiting. Can you imagine What would happen if I gave him that keys? If I closed my eyes and let him drive. All he needs is an okay, a signal, a sign. All he needs is for me to let him come into me, In every way a man, can come into a woman. In parts, in whole. In spirit and in mind. All that is stopping him is me. And I want him so badly. Why do I stop him?

Have I forgotten the years past? The ones involving dangerously alluring eyes and lustful thoughts. His words. I dare not speak what my tongue did seek in fear of the retribution that would follow.....And he-- I don't deserve him. He that is noble to me, and my love. But... the other, his hands are strong and rough from his trade, from his manhood. And I, as soft as a lily floats, lay, as always, in open and waiting for a time where that heat-- that fire-- that passion will melt all walls between us and create, bore, that of what a phoenix is made. That scorching of inhibition.

My only regret is not tempting him as he does me. Giving him my full attention, ruining any of his efforts to be good, to be wholesome, to be pure. That and my secret desire, my deliciously private.... one, that would involve, my complete destruction, his complete being. My full attention, his absolute enduring....my God and my everything. His eyes and words and mouth and touch....stalking my every waking, yet desolate hours.

I am a fool for him; and forever will be.  

Was There Ever?

I don't think I understand completely the magnitude of all of my actions. I often find myself wanting to "be in the know" almost all the time only to cringe at the knowledge I've gained. Such is the way of life. I had a dream where the sky turned to night and the stars began to swirl. I think it was the end of the world or something, but it ended with me feeling so much comfort from the thought of a fresh start, a new beginning-- even if I wasn't a part of it.

That's a sick thought for most. But I don't really think so. I think that's a noble one. To want to start over again from scratch. Can you imagine what the world would be like? If every couple of hundred of years everything just restarted? kind of like a giant worldwide reincarnation. What if that's what keeps happening: a mass reboot of the earth to try and get it right before reaching nirvana. My goodness, with thoughts like this, I could be the next L. Ron Hubbard (with better fashion sense, even for me).

I think it is more of me wanting to believe that we, humanity, can have a fresh start. Life would be so much easier with a restart button. or better yet a strategy guide-- walk through if you will. But life isn't a video game. Yet....

I want to be where he is. He as in that timeless beauty that is God; that amazing champion of all that is pure and good in this world. I want to be that pure. I want to be that flawless. I want to have that vision, see clearly what was and is and will be. I want to find that nirvana within myself, that plane of complexity that has formed up until the dying days of earth causes a rejuvenation of its surfaces and ocean ways.

Peace of mind. Mind at peace.