the art of love

The emerald sound of the solitary ocean imprints in my soul red petals of inquietude. It rains love in the universe. I gather delicate drops into my palms.  I can see the contour of your body in each drop.  In the humid air, calcified waves design amorphous temples embellished with forbidden geometrical mysteries. Coming from distant constellations your voice spirals around each wave:


“Our love metamorphosed the altar of the day into the altar of the night. And the altar of the night into the altar of the day. It changed rain drops into yellow drops of perfumed wax, now trickling eternally at the feet of mythical saints. The morning star, dethroned by your ethereal glow, became a vague lyrical memory. Millions of suns were pushed by the blaze of our love toward the margins of the universe.

The movements of your body against mine give birth to new universes. Your touches cloak my skin into new zodiac signs.  Your kisses form new violet maps on my lips.  Caressing your delicate ankles, I am listening to Shiva’s cosmic dance. I am watching you. You are taming lions. You are awakening fairies. The god of war lies wounded at your feet. Stella Polaris is shining in your eyes.

I was a neophyte when it came to love. You transfigured me into the King of Love.”


A slightly modified version was published in The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch.


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