We were lessons in disguise
you taught me never to trust,
and I taught you that when a feeling deserts the heart,
it never finds its way back.

Not ink on paper, pale and neat,
But air alive with music sweet.
A scent of blooms in sunlit haze,
A floral song for all our days.

A gentle place, a warm embrace,
A haven found in time and space.
A longing felt, a need so deep,
Where weary hearts can softly sleep.

A world unfolds, a vibrant hue,
A magic waits, just for you.
Open your eyes, and let it be,
A wonder whispered, wild and free.

It is the wine of union,
poured by the Hidden Cupbearer.

Two bodies dissolve
like salt in water, like flame in flame.

It is prayer without words,
ecstasy without end, a door where the soul slips out of its cage and falls into the Beloved.

Some call it sin, others call it God but the taste is the same: a burning that makes us whole.

Truth is an arrow
it pierces, yet purifies,
leaving the wound clean,
a scar that remembers,
but does not deceive.

Hypocrisy is an ointment
it soothes, yet poisons,
numbing the pain,
covering rot with fragrance,
a sweetness that kills.

Better the cut of truth
than the kiss of lies,
for only what bleeds
may one day be healed.

She gave me words I could not catch, a tongue of winds and waves, yet to her shape I long to bend, to her silence I am slave.

Celtic is her language,
and mine cannot reach her song. Her face became my tempest, my anger, sharp and strong.

Yet to that face I’d gladly kneel, a pilgrim at her shrine
but first my hands must learn her skin, and make her body mine.

A narrow life I tread,
a path so worn, so thin.
The walls press close ahead,
and tear my soul within.

The sun burns bright outside,
on fields I may not roam.
My heart can scarcely hide
its aching call for home.

A home both wide and free,
where roots take hold, then grow;
where I may simply be,
and watch wild seedlings sow.

O words, you kiss before the lips,
a trembling heat, a slow eclipse.
You press the skin without a hand,
a secret tide, a hidden land.

You slip between the ribs unseen,
where hunger wakes and hearts convene.
More supple than a lover’s hair,
more naked still than bodies bare.

You moan in breath, you sigh in song,
you linger sweet, you burn too long.
A nerve’s caress, a bowstring’s hum,
you strike me deep, I come undone.

O words, unlace me, seam by seam,
make language flesh, make silence dream.
To walk unclothed within your fire,
and taste the ache of full desire.