Belly of a Star

my practice of compassion

The Birth of Days

4 Comments

Marcelle

 

How I adore thee in the awakening and secretly sleep at your side, a mistress to her maker.

You are as the glimmering light of the open window beckoning me forward; the one at the end of the distant tunnel, the edging of beauty that waits beyond view.

And I am as traveler gathering and blending forward into the shadow of your nearing, the stars in my eyes dusted by the keeper of my ways.

I am the warrior, the hunter found, the captured one released, whilst the sorrow of entrapment past turns the rescued laced with hunger.

I am appetite. I am urge. I am the ache that rises from beneath the disguise. The two of us blended and formed before midnight was named.

The corners of my heart sealed by the twilight of your birth, I chase you in daylight ponderings, the each of me split into a thousand ones, sprinting fully.

I dress myself in garments of purity and grand masks of mystery, dependent upon the pallet of your wanting.

I cannot help but to purge myself upon you, to nibble at the notion of tender ear, per chance to taste the flesh of dream.

To take in the intoxication, the fundamental necessity of tomorrow, as we wait, side melted into side, the two broken and returned as one.

For you are my journeyman, my splendid knight of opportunity opened; the doorway to your recognition the ripening of my cornerstone.

I grow in every thought of you. Your face my nurturing angel. Your eyes the twin-stars that shines upon me.

I am because you have been. And I shall be because you are. Everything about you my eternal champion.

As sleepy child wishing upon my stallion dream, I gallop through the echoes of your imaginings, pulling out the hope that you shall at last encapsulate your maiden long forgotten.

To emancipate the recognition and reclaim the forger’s breath that weaved my dawning kiss.

To reach beyond the reaching and touch down on the essence of whisper that moves beyond the crevices of your name.

For I am this beauty, this sunrise, this effervescent rapture set free in the ebony bowl of you; swimming though I know not, wishing though I think not, rising though I move not, and casting bout the glimmering blue as angler poured into cause.

Hear me now, my dove-tailed answer. Fill me with the chamber music of the ages. Hear me now, my stampeding stream. Crash upon my naked truth.

Cascade upon my shining light the brilliance of your unlit shore, the ever-moving fire fueled without flame, built upon the very breath of naught.

Carry me, still, upon the hills of nowhere, and dip me through the forest of the mystery unraveled, my blanket the etchings you carve along my seams.

Take me to the dweller of cave, and set me at his foothold, that I may rise as warrior redone, her edges reshaped in the likeness of lover.

And there, in the darkness uncovered, stand at my side, until the space between, removed, becomes witness to our union.

Our marking of absence the spark that ignites the habitat of creation and brings forth the birth of days.

4 thoughts on “The Birth of Days

  1. Beautiful post, Sam, and this is one of my favorite lines…Carry me, still, upon the hills of nowhere, and dip me through the forest of the mystery unraveled, my blanket the etchings you carve along my seams. Your photo above is also beautiful with your awesome smile! xx

  2. All of your writing should be published, it is wonderful  Ruth-Ann Neil

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