The poetry says it all.
My own personal renaissance. A time of development. An enlightenment of age.
I stood by the window and watched a family of clouds outside. The spring equinox was less than a month ago on the east coast of North America.
I felt the chill of the air outside. Or rather, the heat leaving my body and transferring to the air.
I wondered if this was how we humans functioned? Perhaps the sun does not rise to give us life; perhaps we rise to give life to the sun. Do we give life to others as we do the sun? Or do they take it from us?
I hope my light is my own.
The dampness of your stare
The warmth of your hair
The clarity in your eyes
is my heart’s demise
Your hands are large and I need them around my wrists
I need to surrender, although I ball my fists
There’s a warmth in you that’s yet to be directed towards me
I feel it in my bones; a sacred history
The structure of your body must house a soul of beautious mystery
If I knocked, would you unlock the door, even briefly
Caress me with your words
Shoot me with your affection
Strike me with your glances
Consume me with your eyes
Hold me in a burning embrace unmatched by Hades himself
Maybe we’ll get married in a field of sunflowers…