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I am a song
that’s not been sung
until now.

Whispers turning into roars.
Moans rising like vaporous
tendrils of luscious
liquid kisses
consuming your
sword of light
only to reignite it.

Spirit Lover tastes of
fine wine and musky flora,
spicy and fragrant,
intoxicating, edible,
and delicious to
awakened palate’s

This raging furnace
that is now me
and moves as
red hot lava
carving pathways
through valley and stream,
village and skyscrapers,
virgins and victors.

Feasting between your legs
whole universes explode
as we collide
in time
and space,
soul and flesh,
spirit and mind,

I see.
I feel.
I know.

The Priestess is awake.


One thought on “Feasting

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