Yes, Lovely Lady, I am at your feet. I am here, your Master and your Servant, your man waiting patiently for that moment when time and space have closed to nothing more than a bead of sweat between us. I am here, and someday soon this guttural growl that grows within me will become a roar that explodes and echoes deep within you. You will feel me, and you will never be able to let me go.
I love you because I have no choice. I didn't ask to love you. I didn't need to love you, but I love you just the same. My arms aren't filled unless you're in them, and my thirst is not quenched unless you are the drink.
“Imagine,” she says, “my arms around you, my tongue tasting you, my heart beating next to yours. Imagine the wildness in my eyes, the beast escaping my parted lips as we embrace in the wilderness of love’s sweet creation. Imagine the calm roughness of it all, the sweat pouring from our brows and mixing there, in that infinite field of pleasure we call 'us'."
Naturally, without the fine tuning of an artist's pen upon your skin, you are beautiful. Found in the subtle power of your touch, of the simple yet overwhelming grip of your gaze, is the defined knowledge of beauty born in the chills that run down my spine.
A new Universe born in each embrace, in each caress, and in each challenge that our humanity will offer. I will enter all of you as you embrace all of me, and I will hear your heart beat through different ears, see your smile though different eyes, and feel you through different senses uninhibited by fear and shrouded in love.
We don't measure the tides by the height of the sand yet I have chosen to measure my life by the abundance of sadness. What if instead of seeing the patches of destruction I saw the vast areas of loving awesomeness that made them so noticeable? What if I changed my focus, changed what was the space between?
When I question the Universe around me sternly is it time to stop catering to the maniacal creations of man and start living? Starve if I must, freeze if I have to, die a lonely and tired death if that is what I am destined to do but do it nonetheless.
In his fantasy she fought for him. In his dream she recognized this part of him and eliminated the shadows. She stood up, caressed his face and told him it would be alright. In the mist of his heart she said "enough, what do I need to do for you" and then proceeded to do it. In the fog of his mind she said "None of them matter, only you do. I will do whatever it takes to be with you." That was his dream, and outside of it those words would have exploded into a warmth never seen before in his heart.
He could feel the end coming. Within him became a mixture of peace and pain, of darkness and light. He realized this interesting parallel in the life we all lead. It seemed what we call death is just like what we call life, a mixture of suffering and joy. Even now, as he suffered intensely amid the final pathway to peace he couldn’t go there.
Let's not fool ourselves. There is a price to be paid for burning away the shrouds a man has donned in order to find security in this life. Fear shows itself to be a devil's tool, a torture for the minds of even the strongest of men.
I remember a people united in a common cause of service bound by something far greater than patriotism, or nationality, or faith. I remember long lines where people of all sizes, shapes, colors, languages and faiths stood together to give blood, sweat, money or just a piece of themselves in a common cause of service.