The Moon and The Sun

Containing an insatiable excitement,

Strikes me as foolhardy, an unnecessary impossibility,

As driven by my favourite ladies,

So too I hope for you they will become,

This enchantment we can share,

As we did once, we will again,

Become,

Intoxicated by ambrosia,

Mistresses Destiny, Fate and Serendipity,

Clashing together in a beautiful symphony,

Where the universe is conductor,

And we are but pieces,

Brought together,

For our assimilation of what can be,

Such that only budding feelings may bloom,

Those that began the day we met,

Our eyes, our smiles and our souls,

Who could have known, between then and now,

Directed by the goddesses of love and attraction,

Into infinity,

True love never dies.

 

These Celtic deities; Achtland, Medb, Finncaev and Aidin,

Conchenn or Oenghis,

The sexual chemistry obvious and ready to be tapped,

Not touching you one of the hardest things I’ve ever done,

Touching you, even more so,

Possibly, though as yet unproven, one of the best,

With subtle giggles and tempted expressions,

Conversations free from the unnecessary melodrama of the daily grind,

Instead of aspirations, inspirations and the things that brought us here,

Carefully considered as this odyssey presses on.

 

Those passionate Greeks reveal,

Aphrodite, Eros, Hebe and Suadela,

Thalia, Venus and Cythera,

Each singing songs unlike the Sirens, toward our yearning,

Rather like the Muses,

Reaching inside of me and commanding forth,

Words that resemble silent thoughts,

Until this time was nigh,

Words unspoken,

Quiet admirations for precious enticements, subtle,

Those soon may unmask spellbinding intentions,

Those that again show this heart can feel,

Does feel,

Fluttering as hummingbird’s wings,

Flickering like the bright of a bonfire,

My temptations.

 

Perhaps Bintang, Ezili or Havea lolo funua,

Each together as quorum decide,

This pure desire shall be rewarded still,

Beating anew the drums of sexual fervor,

Communicating still in the abyss of time,

Finding a simple shared smile,

That leads to so much more,

Ix Che, Kanikanihia, Qadesh or Tlazolteotl,

Around personal fantasy’s conference table,

Drawing decisions from distinctions of pure desires,

Raw, ripe and blossoming,

As has been true for as long as we have known,

The perfect glint in the others’ eyes,

Knowing what we could have done,

Choosing what we did not do just as much as what we did.

 

What of Sjofn, Suadela or Urunrupuin or maybe Xtabay,

Are they to be believed that these hands,

These invisible forces,

Prevented us from jumping in too soon,

Giving rise to passions that may have dulled,

Without the anticipation of something so fresh,

As to rejuvenate our minds, bodies and souls?

 

Only time will tell,

If the grand design of these goddesses was of such import,

That the result, now within reach, is undeniable,

Their fallibility unchecked as mortals we,

Come together,

Crashing into each others lives like waves,

Leaving something each time we crest,

Taking something as we depart.

 

Only time will tell,

Preciously,

The wisdom of these loving sages,

The wisdom of our decisions,

The wisdom of our love;

 

Though I suspect,

Their sagacity is beyond reproach.

I am the sun,

And you Hmong Key are the moon,

And as the Hmong tale reveals,

I like the sun,

Die every night,

So that your beauty can live on,

Every night,

Always…

I love you!

 

 

SDM

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