Morningstar

I grow weary from awaiting the dawn

That will bring the one who steps up slowly,

Smiling slyly, and disarms me with one

Glance. My weapons gone, she strips me bit by

Bit, of shield and plate and chain, to let them

Fall away, so I may take her hand and

Gambol unencumbered. She would laugh as,

With adroit finesse, she flicks away my

Veils and costumes, smoothes the furrows from my

Brow, and presses t’wards tranquil repose.

I, bereft of that which has defined me,

Reach for this bewitching vision as a

Drowning man will blindly grab for fundament

Curling from my grasp, she dares with sparkling

Eyes, enticing my desire with her

Sinuous grace and serpentine curves.

Now I move with firm intent, and still she

Spins away. We flow into the chase, my

Fingers brushing at her trailing hair and

Fluttering scarves, always just behind her.

Bellowing ecstatically, I pounce. She

Glances back, confused, and then surprised with

Just a hint of trepidation. In that

Moment we collide so comfortably,

Kissing, coupling, just as bubbles meet and

Move as one. We resonate in harmony,

Intention, preconception, future

Gone: we live in present, and with presents,

And with presence, ‘til we spark, and she receives

Me as the stretching leaves embrace the sun.

-D.M.D.M. 5-5-2009