A poem for thoughts...  

snowdragon2006 42M
96 posts
8/8/2006 9:34 pm

Last Read:
8/13/2006 7:35 pm

A poem for thoughts...

Our eyes lock and through the thumping in our heads I can hear her thoughts.
"Come to me," she says. "I need the release only a kindred spirit can bring."
But I deny her this request for salvation, this command for my obedience.
Soon, I will devote myself like a believer on her alter, and allow her to feast on my soul,
But not yet. I will not follow into her light...yet.

The pulsing music controls our beating hearts. Or does our beating control the pulsing?
I smile at her, the control I will not relinquish stays within my grasp.
She cannot have what she cannot take, and she cannot take what she cannot control.
She withdraws her offer as her eyes break free from our dance of the mind
"Paradise is not for you," her thoughts pronounce, her injured pride at what she cannot have.

And though most would crumble at the sight of heaven's gate closing
Run begging for salvation, redemption and forgiveness
I stand my ground before paradise lost, and vow to make my own heaven.
She looks back for a second, but my gaze grabs her.
She realizes it is not salvation I seek, but that which I offer.

Her ego crashes with a scorned woman's anger.
She refuses to submit before one who claims the key
She releases her rages and furies to frighten and reclaim that which once was hers.
But through the Goliath's power, never before challenged, never before denied,
stands my David, with power of belief, the power of my faith.

Now the pulsing music moves us, closer in spirit and mind.
Her rage is spent and exhausted revealing that which I seek.
She stands before me, naked and exposed.
But in the moment of vulnerability she realizes why our eyes cannot break free
It is the light we seek, and the light we create that is released when souls meet.

She comes to me, the pulsing, pounding, blaring sounds are the world being born
I reach out and take her hand and bring her within me.
I pull her close, she must sacrifice her gods on my alter first.
Her body presses within mine, of passions ignited by friction and touch,
of minds alive with the fires of hope and desire.

The music is thumping in our heads and we are drowning inside
My hands follow her body, her skin once hot now shivers beyond her control
Her hips move to mine. A concerto of rhythm and smoke and simmering fire
Her smell is of hot peaches that lay waiting for the taking
And always her eyes stay locked on my soul

Where there were many, now stands one. We are alone, a world unto ourselves.
Her skin glistens with cool hunger, and her lips call out but do not make a sound.
Her breathing sharpens and I want to drink deep from her well.
She begs of me to take what she, finally, can only now, freely offer.

The pulsing, pounding, rushing, throbbing pulls me to my knees.
It is now my giant that crumbles and falls.
Her fingers race and grab and hold to find a center to stop her fall.
We are lost in the midst of a tempest. A flurry of unknown passions released.
The world of pretense melts and is washed away. This is a baptism. We are born again.

No, we are the center of the tempest. The center of the world anew.
The passions and hopes we carry within us, of a future as yet, unwritten.
She takes me within her soul. The core of the world.
The world of our own making. We are gods of the early morn, born again.
And like dawn's first light, we awaken a world that has slumbered for too long...

© Snowdragon2006

florallei 100F

8/9/2006 9:58 pm

OMG SnowD,

You are a very talented writer! Do you publish your writings? This is very erotic, moving and beautiful. TY for sharing it.

snowdragon2006 replies on 8/9/2006 11:37 pm:
Thank you. It is my first posting. But be careful, pretty lady, flattery will get you everywhere...

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