In Every Way

I want you in every way a woman can want a man.

I want you filling my dark spaces,

pressing my body to the earth, swollen

and hungry for the nourishment I give.

I want you in every way a woman can want a man

Enflaming my senses, your tongue seeking

The poetry of my lips , the language of my sex,

Writing our story of desire with blazing eyes.

I want you in every way a woman can want a man

I want you holding my body in your fierce protection

My soul in sacred surrender, my goddess heart wide-open

Your entire being penetrating and claiming mine.

I want you.

In every way.

No Borders

I am bursting out of my skin.

Light cannot be contained in dense bones

Joy cannot be restrained by this flesh

Delight will not be subdued by closing my eyes.

I swim in the deep forest pools of your laughter.

I soar through the star-sprinkled eyes of your luminous soul.

I trace the terrains of your flushed cheeks

Where my fingertips map new territories

And melt away the countries of our separation

Until you and I have no borders

And we, we take flight.

A poem to to chew, digest and absorb into myself.

There is power in poetry when we memorize it and hold it close to our hearts.  There have been several throughout my life that have become woven into the fabric of my soul.  W.B. Yeats, Shakespeare, Emily Dickinson, ee cummings.

This is one that I shall now set intention to absorb.  This is another exquisite poem by Rumi, translated by Coleman Barks.

I SEE MY BEAUTY IN YOU

I see my beauty in you.
I become a mirror that cannot close its eyes to your longing.
My eyes wet with yours in the early light.
My mind every moment giving birth,
always conceiving, always in the ninth month,
always the come-point. How do I stand this?

We become these words we say,
a wailing sound moving out into the air.
These thousands of worlds that rise from nowhere,
how does your face contain them?

I’m a fly in your honey,
then closer, a moth caught in flame’s allure,
then empty sky stretched out in homage.

Healed.

They ask in hushed tones if I’m OK, standing still, afraid to open the dusty curtains in case the sunlight is too happy, too much, too bright.  They whisper phrases like “I hope you can heal,” and fuss about the room unsure where to put the cards and flowers.

I laugh, sending a ripple of energy through the room, unexpectedly scattering the brittle petals of the long-dead roses.  Stepping to the window, I fling open the curtains and raise the window to let in the fresh air. “Don’t you see?” I gleefully ask.  “The illness is gone.  I am free of that which held me back and weighed me down.  There is no need to tiptoe about as if I were inflicted.”

I breathe deeply of the coming-spring air and feel myself eager to touch the earth with my bare feet. He is long gone, and so is the drama, the emotional drain, the suffering.  Here in my home is my forever family, and there, outside, is the bold and vibrant world.

I laugh again, letting it ripple through my body, my body so alive and awake and well.

Hello

braveenough-Paulo-Coelho-quotes

Goodbye worry, hello joy!

Hello sweet woman with a shy smile and desire to please.

Hello vibrant goddess with lips soft and yielding

Hello tall, strong Viking with earnest passion and protective arms

Hello explorer with refined tastes and intelligence to spare

Goodbye to wondering, waiting, hoping

Hello to new hellos, to first kisses, to pleasures that await

Hello new chapter.  Hello, hello hello!

Still here.

Still ( ) here

Erase every last word
The stories will last
Delete my number
My voice will sing
Wipe the slate clean
Love lingers in chalk dust
Grow yourself a new name
It sprang from the seeds of us
Pretend I’m a vanished ghost
I’m still

fucking

here.

(c) Aurora Day, 2014

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Stripped

I want you bare before me:
your fine clothing – wrinkled heaps
your rich words – crumbled moans
your mask of power – crushed fragments

I want you naked and kneeling:
your strong body – my noble offering
your sharp mind – my tabula rasa
your rooted soul – my humble supplicant

I will not settle for anything less than you:
the you behind every learned gesture
the you beyond the safety of your thoughts
the you soaring free and fearless

And then, in that purple heaven I will show you:
the heat of my body’s desire
the ferocity of my protection
the unfailing embrace of every darkness in you

Stripped. 
Adored. 
Mine.

Everything is connected.

The Explorer leaned back after having his plea to be kissed answered.  A sly grin spread across his face as he pondered out loud “How is that we have never met?”

I knew what he meant, for I couldn’t fathom how we had only first exchanged emails a month ago.  Some souls resonate with us as if we have known them for lifetimes.  Or were born from the same star.  Certainly we had quickly identified aligned philosophies, values, approaches, and interests both mundane and erotic.  Where we saw differences, we saw potential, a yin-yang of needs and delectable delights.

Timing is important in music, and it is important in meeting whom we are meant to know.  This song is new, yet familiar, a melody etched into a deeper part of the self while being as fresh as the ink on a 6-day tattoo.

I hold no expectations while I hold myself open to possibility.  For now, I am enjoying the thrill of the Explorer’s energy, inspiring me to be the best me I can, to contemplate paths I couldn’t see even two months ago, and to bask in the luxury of rich kisses, tingle-inducing texts, and a life better lived.

Carnal Apple by Neruda

Pablo Neruda:

Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
What primal night does Man touch with his senses?
Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
Love is a war of lightning,
and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
slips through the narrow channels of blood
to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
to be, and be nothing but light in the dark.

Queen Rising

In my months of craving submission and leadership, I never stopped to consider that perhaps the other side of my switch nature needed to breathe, too.  That the focus on yielding made me forget the goddess-queen who knows she is worthy of worship, of supplicants to bring her pleasure and joy.  And to inspire her strong command and her guidance.

Sometimes it takes the spark of another to relight the pilot light of the soul and remember that feeling of gracious control, of holding dear and safe to her breast the tender desire of one who needs her rule.

The light of such a shining star may illuminate the path before her.

I awaken.  I feel.  I rise.