A hand stretches out across the ether,
tentative, cautious, daring.
Extended in friendship and curiosity,
gently prodding the barriers.
A vulnerable, fragile, empathetic core
balanced with pure unadulterated darkness;
surrounded with walls of stone and steel,
covered with curtains of silk.
If the stranger asks, he will receive
perhaps more than he ever bargained.
Whisper of silk as it drops to the ground,
hardness of stone underfoot.
The ring of metal and it's cold kiss on flesh
agony and ecstasy entwine.
Sweetly submitting to darkness and evil,
the beautiful, poetic surrender.
And yet, the light calls, the heat of day seduces;
again the battle of duality.
She who is dark reluctantly shifts, makes way;
she who is light floats onward.
Where is he, the stranger who dwells in the night,
the one who infiltrates our dreams?
He who is man both light and dark;
within one soul, two natures.
1 comment:
I've glimpsed the circular patterns which repeat in comic acts upon life's stage...I've beared witness to the rising of the phoenix from the ambers, and its semblance is of you. A voice in the night yours is...beckoning me forth like the kindred rib pulled from my chest so long ago. What pangs and confuse'd thoughts which once were rampant.
You write, with the grace and elegance of a thousand crystal muses...each one of them, singing harmonies of light and life while their underbellies shroud the cloak of night. Twain are we...bound by something more than happenstance. I make a mockery of myself when thinking happier times may lay in wait...for happiness doesn't house the crudity of a flimsy wall-covering. Natures...pure and simple...you and I are one.
As beasts so often do, I settled in my den with something comfortable...that comfort, melted fast into resent...as reciprocity of spirit is not easily found.
I'm honoured!
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