Like a river opens itself to the rain.
.
.
.
.
The clouds have parted ways.
words we dimly hear…
we dance round in a ring and suppose…
L
L
L
but the secret
sits in the middle
and knows.L
L
— Robert Frost —
you can’t. not yet. so don’t…
“What does it take to inspire you?”
He asked.
“I need to fall in love,” she replied.
“Surely there must be an easier way,”
he retorted.
“Why, I have already fallen in love twice today,” she answered,
“First, when I set my eyes upon the
ever precipitous mountains that surround us,
guarding us like the skin that stretches along our bones,
and second,
with the uncertainty in your voice when you asked
if there is anything easier than falling in love.”
— n. o. —
C’mere…
“C’mere,” you said as you took my hand.
My slim hand entwined in your thick, warm one.
the other is for goodness…
Dear Gentle Sir,
There are worlds between us.
When your full head peers into the abyss of my need, my petals spread like wings. I am Pegasus to your Zeus. (Though, who is muse to whom remains a bone of contention – one I’m content to nibble on.) To see you astride me is to believe in quantum physics: how else could we be here? Together. Entwined and wide-eyed like this?
As I arch to make room for you inside me, each intake of air births a belief… in the Impossible and in the Possible. Each moan may sound our names but it’s true nature is a blessing… Given and Taken.
When two become one in the Mystery of Meeting, we become feathers bound by blessed winds flying over mountains of pleasure and valleys of discontent. Each strain, each grip, every time we reach for the other sings us into a new moment. We become this. Together.
And still, you are so beautiful.
Missing You,
Lola Moi xo
heads or tails…
in the wet o’ the morn…
butterflies and hurricanes…
siren song…
elsewhere
later
under cover
breast against your ribs
still warm
ripe
she enters our room
on windless calm
the fertile earth
and spreading plain
of her promised land
whispers
(and how the lyre plucks)
across continents and over seas
lapping
lapping
lapping
waves of heart’s content
bound tight ’round her mast
sail on
a wiser man
and leave me sleep
– Lola Moi –
