Sunday, March 15, 2009

The Awakening

My spirit sings beneath its shaded awn'.

Longing, grasping, reaching for the day.

The shadows light upon your face at dawn,

In silken sleek and shimmer I will stay.

Covered by naked vestments nearly white,

My breath caught softly by your slowing hand.

Until the bird of fortune takes its flight,

The body serves more than the heart's demand.

And in this Aidin's chamber I will lay,

Each tender movement bringing stolen sighs.

Despite the doubts such feelings can't allay,

Passion's purlings uncertainty belies.

Such lips would silence any budding qualm,

And ardor flows in sanguine waves of calm.

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