Spiritual Awakening

You are the rhythm of my thighs as they ride the journey.
The tension of the drum,
as your fingertips trace the notes of my jaw.
The lilt of savory merlot,
as my mouth is ravished by the sap of your lineage.
The home to your medieval castle roars of tantric memories,
stories of us which will grace the walls.
You are the celestial dove in the moonlight.
I want to be your clover minx in your lurid utopia.
You are my calm repose; I want to be your compass in the storm.
In the doorway of my virginal heart,
I know you will always keep me safe from harm.
I want to be your forbidden fruit,
the luscious juice of ripened mangoes.
Open me up like a lotus flower as I give myself over to you.
You are the covert glance from across the room;
we are the spiritual murmurs of one soul.
I want to be a rough gem in the palm of your hand,
as we become one in a rushing chasm of Ireland.
Hand in hand,
we will walk and speak of Jeffrey and Isabella.
The fruit of our loins. The passion as one.
"In this grassy tundra of your land,
I will love without words,
with all that I am."