The first, the last, and the human.
Your form,
Arcane in its potency,
Designed by Terra.
Skin the color of rich soil
Molded in its bed of shore-earth
By the chaste tides of the Tigris
And as the river of Eden washed over it
An ancient sculpture formed
Of river clay
A body from before our kind had shame
Or beauty
Only dreams.
Your hair,
Shadows in a twilight forest
Softer than ether
Strands of a void
From a sinful Underworld
Your eyes a galaxy
Your gaze a reborn star
Their white a vast expanse of light
Spiraling towards a frightening, wondrous dark.
Strange worlds, stubbornly blemishing that white,
Earths and anchors for those frightened of the lustrous black.
Your lips,
Fresh silk
Your teeth,
Ancient and forgotten pearls
Untouched by our opinions
Confident in neither beauty
Nor worth
But in themselves
Your smile,
A diamond’s glimmer
Cruel fantasies and blinding ecstasies
Concealed in the glint
Of a new age’s shimmering monument
Of future promises
Of past experiences
Of modern reality
Your breath,
A rare and priceless spice
Your neck,
A lacquer vase
Honey skin over graceful sinew
A calm strength, a passionate weakness
A perfect vessel
Which waters song
And speech
And laughter
Your voice,
The scream of an eagle
The roar of a lion
The call of a siren
The hiss of a basilisk
The bubbling of streams
The sorcery of druids
The whisper of winds
The shifting of sand
The rustle of leaves
The groan of trees
The laughter of fire
The drone of mountains
The orchestra of a million men
The choir of a world of fey
Your collarbone,
A steppe
Your shoulder,
The pride of a panther
Jungle’s grace
An Amazonian god’s power
Your arm,
A deadly serpent
Its gentle caress
Betraying none
Of the magnificent force
Your hand,
A desert spider
Weaving through pain and pleasure
Spinning webs and words of ink
A reassuring brush against your friend
A venomous dagger against your enemy
Your touch,
The warmth of a summer rain
The rasp of a fall leaf
The glide of a frozen stream in winter
The pulse of a flowering field in spring
Your side,
Cascading amber
The bronzed torso of a Roman statue
Fluid and firm
Your leg,
A marble column
Haughty model
For the architects of Antiquity
Your walk,
The dance of tumbleweed
Free and tall
An Atlas between heaven and earth
With the sun in your hair
The sky in your eyes
And the ground beneath your feet
Your scent,
A myrrh salve
Heated cinnamon
A last meal’s bread
An exotic oil
Heady in its flavor
Bittersweet in its taste
Flowing from your skin
Like a temptation
Your embrace,
The euphoria of rest
The burn of sacrificial fire
The thunderous overload of sense
An instant
Bursting into a universe
When you are mine,
I am the greatest god
The smallest ant.
No comments:
Post a Comment