∙∙∙∙unveiling of love
quite simply for Master
- 2746 reads
"as one"
before time, i slip into your breathing as mirrors reflect my side of our body; my cool river pours into your now serene lake guiding me to the folds of your mind. drift to your sky, float amongst your thoughts, touching them as they unfold. tumble in the surf of serenity slip me to your soul, oh god! slip me to your soul so that i may witness it greeting mine in exquisite tongues unheard creating a new language. chimes touch as light opens and the union begins: two become one yet two remain; breath breathing, inhaling, holding as the blue swallow is complete. rest in the peace of the most divine. quiet, still, observe the nature, feel her pulse undulate pulling and uniting; joining, imprinting, bodies disappear inside the other and rise on the other side of water. cool liquid spills over and down birthing an eternal garden. flowers, such beautiful flowers, replace limbs. watch them cleave and twine so very urgently yet gracefully. where does one end, the other begin as we unfold, unfold onto the aching soul-petals of the other? `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 16nov03
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- 1547 reads
"before the divine"
"do you hear her divine whisperings?"
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- 1644 reads
"cocoon"
... a little riposte to a wonderful piece called "The Seeker"
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- 1628 reads
"deaf as concrete"
secretly slide your fingers between the many branches of the weeping willow hush, and listen to her lament. she cries the tears of busy world that do not know how to hear; they have forgotten more important things have replaced the quiet world of the willow. do you like my car, did you succeed yet again in claiming an expense you did not incur? the simplicity of the swaying branches of the weeping willow sharply contrasted with the backdrop of the inhuman concrete city in which we live or is it exist? moving to the face on a watch rather than feeling the time of the sun. constantly hurried by that watch face but in a hurry to do what? or even to be on time or late with yet another good lie which some think will be another adequate excuse. do you think some do not see the lies of men in a hurry to go no where with no one save for the one's that blindly ask a/s/l for the thousandth time. so lonely they would not know a world without their solitude. why? because what then will they use for attention. we have come so far from the morals our ancestors learned from the sun, the weeping willow, the wind to become a people so absorbed with self, gossiping, taking advantage of anyone we can that man has become as unfeeling and deaf as concrete. `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova
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- 1618 reads
"the silence of the sky"
~penned in the tanka style
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- 1717 reads
"what sayest thee?"
what sayest thee?" where doth thy soul reside, doth it feel mine essence embracing thine pulling mind to mind to dwell on same pillow prithee for another liftime? o! Sahib doest i that thou will be pleased with me that limbs embrace what soul's have long begun. dost thy skin taste mine curl e'en when uncurled 'n' entwined in destiny's destined entwine? thee and i to part, nay. but what sayest thee? `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 01may04
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- 1647 reads
"woman unknown"
pour forward from the pregnant cup swollen with the whispers of trickery listen as they sizzle with deception watch as they splash upon the lips of honesty slowly stripping his desire oh! dark lady draped in gown's deceit strangle your dishonest throat purge your little voice pure to witness his heart fall speechless thru its lining onto crimson carpet, her crimson carpet called desolation exhale her soul, spitting its choking skin against the fire of her burning eyes smell the flames lick her presence making her now a distant past a voice unheard, a woman unknown. `T. Imaan Tretchicovmanicova 15mar04
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- 1395 reads