Sing softly to me
Like the ancient gods
Whispering fate from the sacred mountains
Call on my being
With the wrath of your soft touch
For it is you who tames my dark.
Look through the windows of my soul
Like the sun does the day
Spreading her warm rays across the earth
Drink my disoriented truth
With the curiosity of your seductive eyes
For it is you who claimed my soul.
Disarm my defiant self
Like the moon conquers the bold night
Lighting every street below with her silver glow
Take my waiting lips
With your unmatched burning desire
For it is you who they secretly need.
Feed my hungry spirit
Like the wet monsoon would a parched desert
Soaking up her every grain of sand
Consume my excited body
With endless enchanted caresses
For it is you who calms my turbulence.
I am digging within myself to take myself back into prose and poetry. It's a struggle as I have realized my own expectations on my own writings are crippling the creation experience. Dissatisfaction can be heard making disappointmented sounds behind the scenes and nothing seems to appease it. There is something to scribe yes but the flow and the rhythm of it all is what I can't really say there is.
