My Rose, I am like a moth to your flame. To be burned by you is heaven. How can I leave you now, but fate decrees I must.
The first moment I met you, our eyes danced, we both combusted. Boom. I didn’t think about it much until later you gave me your invitation; and I accepted…
…and deeper I went into your invitation until we both combined, entwined, two hearts pervading, permiating flesh, beating and being as one. Now we can no longer be together in flesh, I don’t know what I will do. It is torture. It is agony. But, is rapture, because I met you.
You said to me it is better than to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Oh my Lady, yes, it be true. I thank God I met you. And yes, in spirit we are still one.
My beautiful Lady, this is all I can do, to share this with you and tell you how much I love you…
…take me to a higher Love.
“Dance, when you’re broken open. Dance, if you’ve torn the bandage off. Dance in the middle of the fighting. Dance in your blood. Dance when you’re perfectly free.” Rumi
Image: Gyoshū Hayami
Oh how beautiful it was, that precious moment, when through the work of the Divine, in a jolting flash of lightning, I realised it was you.
Our lips met, our tongues danced, and in my heart I knew, through him I was kissing you.
So alive that current as it crackled down my spine, sending shock waves through my soul.
My Lady, how True that moment, as I lost myself to your kiss, my heart aflame as you were working through another.
So beautiful to know my Lady that we kissed, through another in Other.
A little collection of rain-jewelled nature. Enjoy!
You ask me to write of a poets delight, copious words formed into verse and rhyme, words wrangled and wrought onto a page.
But this I can not do, if my heart be true, for Beauty flows in her own time.
Not in my time, your time, anytime old time, but in Perfect and Divine time.
What I can write to you, are words that be true, thank you for being so exquisitely you.
In this timeless dance of masks and veils, truths hidden in the half light, how lucky we are to have met.
In this ineffable myriad of thoughts, shapes and forms, you are so uniquely expressed.
It saddens my heart that we now must part, but I find joy in you…
…beautiful, precious and so wonderfully true…
thank you for being so exquisitely you.
For those dear to me, who have touched my heart.
“But I don’t ‘go to the isles’ for beauty. The isles – the past – the pagan wonder and mystery – come to me! It is what a writer receives that makes him or her. All art is from within. It is from what dies into one, and is reborn.”
~ Fiona Macleod