when Longing weds Desire

 

 

 

The Promise 

  

 

               I gaze out upon The Sea,  as The Dawn slowly pours over Me . . . It’s brilliant Pageant of Light dances upon My Bed of Jewels,  where I laid,  under a Blanket of Stars,  to while away The Night’s Passage . . . after a Moment’s Reflection,  and a Prayer to All Things Dear,  I set out toward The Palace,  Once Again,  along The Shores of Eden,  along This Path of Tears . . . and in The Time of A Wink,  My Eyes behold an Image,  a Woman,  of profound Splendor,  walking toward Me,  as if I,  were Her Intent,  as if I,  were Her Reason . . . beside Myself with Wonder,  I could only Hope . . .

                Still,  at a Distance,  for I cannot yet see Her Eyes,  Her Body pleases Me . . . The Sand,  The Sea,  The Sky . . . All are in extreme Clarity,  yet All are completely intangible . . . My Focus is The Spectral Masterpiece in front of Me . . . My Adrenaline is a fevered rush,  and I must command the last vestiges of My Self-Control to resist shattering . . . I keep walking,  struggling to maintain a bearing of Serenity,  and forge onward . . .

                I feel Invincible,  though dwarfed by The Magnitude of Her Presence . . . I am Alone,  with My Trepidation . . . I am Alone,  with Her . . . She moves,  as Liquid,   with a Grace that startles Me,  and She is as Natural to Her Surroundings as is Sunlight,  possessing a Radiance all Her Own . . . She is closer . . . I can see The Smile I have sailed The Millennia to see . . .

                The Sense of Time has abandoned Me,  along with involuntary impulses to breathe . . . Feeling has left My Fingertips,  and My Vision,  save for Her Aspect,  is dimmed beyond Acuity . . . External Light sources are fading,  and All Sound is in retreat . . . conventional Mind synapses are lost,  and core Body functions subsist on primal drive . . . My Mind,  or what remains of It,  is a spinning Vortex of pure,  white hot Awe . . . My Heart,  echoes The Roar and Velocity,  of a Triphammer . . .

                 Her Eyes . . . Eyes that could send Armies into Oblivion,  cause Empires to rise and fall,  The Seasons to unwind,  Suns to blink,  and ordinary Men to Their Knees . . . Windows to Galaxies . . . Her Eyes,  Thresholds to The Oceans of Awareness,  and All that lies beyond The Realm of Understanding . . . and Somehow,  despite the immense Universe of Her Aura,  I remain standing,  walking,  closer . . .

                 The Air seems to be vibrating softly,  but with a Purpose,  as if The Sky were about to crack from The Intensity of mere Thought . . . I have stepped within,  surrounded,  by The Colors of Her Essence . . . as Her Voice crosses The Distance between Us,  spilling over Me like Cool Water . . . I can see Her Words,  flying,  like Jewels across The Cyan Sky,  and I am The Sky . . . She is speaking to My Heart . . . to Me . . . I am spellbound by The Intimacy,  and I must respond and I cannot,  for My Voice became dust,  long ago . . . Closer is no longer possible,  for I am,  where Here,  Is . . .

                Stonemasons,  Artisans,  Poets,  Painters,  and Sculptors down through Antiquity,  have never captured The Loveliness of a Goddess such as She . . . Her Face,  is a Classic Vista of Wonder and Perfection . . . A Mirror of flawless crystal could never cast a Likeness to compare with The Beauty before Me . . . and I am Ever humbled,  in The Presence of Her Majesty . . .

                 I am within Her . . . I am born Anew,  yet I have lost all Sense of Self . . . Desire has become My Master, though We have yet to Touch,  for I feel I would require The Sanctification of Nature to do so . . . yet She,  as if knowing My Thoughts,  and with The Grace of a Swan,  nods Her Head,  and slowly raises Her Hand,  toward My Face . . .

                No Man,  Gone or yet Lived,  has known of This Rapture,  even in Dreams . . . The Fire of Anticipation rivals The Core of The Sun,  burning All Senses . . . to be touched by Paradise,  is to be made One with Her . . . I have never imagined being worthy of This Gift,  of This Ecstasy . . . oh yes,  to dance with The Muse,  in whose Embrace awaits the seldom heard Whisper,  of Fulfillment . . .

                Her Hand caresses My Face,  as She would The Wind,  like Silk across My Skin . . . The Rhythm of Life flows through Her,  and electrifies My Soul . . . and in The Breath of A Moment,  I know All that is in Her Heart,  for She has given Me Her Own . . . She is Earth,  She is Air,  She is Light,  She is The Dawn . . . I stand before Creation’s Daughter,  and I am blessed,  for She,  is The Angel of Love . . .

                 I am wrapped,  within The Music of Her Being,  and I,  begin,  to cry . . .

 

 

 

from A StoryTeller’s Dream ( Dream I ) The Second DoveTale – The Pillow of Hope

and

Book II,  The Sword ( Second Sound ) The Seventh DoveTale – The Robes of Honor

 

 

 

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