blessings for the longest night…

All throughout these months
as the shadows
have lengthened,
this blessing has been
gathering itself,
making ready,
preparing for
this night.

It has practiced
walking in the dark,
traveling with
its eyes closed,
feeling its way
by memory
by touch
by the pull of the moon
even as it wanes.

So believe me
when I tell you
this blessing will
reach you
even if you
have not light enough
to read it;
it will find you
even though you cannot
see it coming.

You will know
the moment of its
arriving
by your release
of the breath
you have held
so long;
a loosening
of the clenching
in your hands,
of the clutch
around your heart;
a thinning
of the darkness
that had drawn itself
around you.

This blessing
does not mean
to take the night away
but it knows
its hidden roads,
knows the resting spots
along the path,
knows what it means
to travel
in the company
of a friend.

So when
this blessing comes,
take its hand.
Get up.blessing
Set out on the road
you cannot see.

This is the night
when you can trust
that any direction
you go,
you will be walking
toward the dawn.

– Jan Richardson –

under pressure…

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

Sitting there, looking into the vacant eyes of overworked suits, food-fused stollers, and academic neglect, your spine shivers. Not from cold, though with each waft of air something certainly stirs within you. This day, you cannot align yourself with the abundance of barely-beating hearts. Despite your own years of wear and tear, she has gifted you, down to each nerve, with life.

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

Thoughts of her sustain you. You can smell her everywhere. You rest your head on the window, close your eyes, and with the everyday gestures of a man, you secretly sniff your collar, the cuff of your jacket, the palm of your hand, your finger… tips. She is still there. Your breath catches with heated reminiscence. There is room for more inside. There is this. This pressure she is… is intense. Your cock tingles and aches to splurge.

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

The train carries you closer to her even when you’ve just left, the long ride redolent of each delicious moan you’ve shared. Her soft mounds and curves await you behind closed doors; she is always open for you. She’s not the first who would do anything for you but she is waiting, she is always waiting, has always been waiting and your balls roil with anticipation, your suckable, full cock tips its head and quickens at the thot. No, you cannot commiserate with the dearth of listless grey lives around you. She has claimed you and you are forever changed.

The doors of the metro open and close, open and close.

Open and close.
Open.
Close.

Open…

L
– Lola Moi –