Gentle is your voice, like a playful
Wisp of smoke dancing around in my heart, and your blue
Eyes, hidden by the night of your hair, are twin fathomless universes which will
Never cease to lure me sweetly, dangerously,
Down deeper and deeper into the beauty of your enigmatic face. You have
Ravished me with your feminine smile, and I am powerless to do
Anything but think of you, forever etched upon my soul.
Enraptured is my being with memories of you,
Still speaking softly to me as if you were
Standing here, close to me. I yearn for more of the moments we have spent together,
Laughing and sharing of each other. Though you are not with me now, I carry you
Inside my heart, like a priest carries a holy relic inside a locked coffer. yet I
Need your lips upon my lips, for the relic is often but a cruel mocking simile of the
Goddess it represents. So I must wait for the next moment in time when we will be with
Each other, as the yogi waits for the true peace of death. as the shaman waits for the
Rapture which brings the promise of a finer reality known only to the dreamer.