Convocation
Non culpa, te se, univocal is the wind of the changes of my life.
I scent you, I feel you, and I know you.
You are ever present and all knowing.
I am pleased to taste the succulent nature of your lips.
To see those eyes, so brown, so casual.
The almonds of fall.
The winters wheat.
I am undone. I am washed in the blue of nostalgia.
I seek the solace of your warmth and assurance.
I dreamed that love will never die. I am alive when I cross your borders. I am full on, when in your presence.
Tears cascade down the wall of my soul. I am a water fall spent. Every last drop of desire has diffused in your direction.
Sakura red, and just as sweet as their inspiration and the fruit, the name of which they carry. I am a victim of their influence, satiated, rung out, and empowered.
Pictures of the passion you provoke, pierce me in my quintessence. You are the prosopopoeia. The one and only. The truest most indissoluble element of my quiddity.
I cantillate your name as prayer. I willingly offer myself procumbent before you. I am as you will. I do as your velleity dictates.
Lost am I in a concentration of your propinquity. We two are the sides of a mirror that touching makes all the dimensions reach their convocation.
I see the winds
I feel the stir
I taste the perpetuation
Then I hear you arrive.
SAE
Pears and sulphur. Both carry sweetness and conflagration.
Till one wide conflagration swallows all. --Pope.
Non culpa, te se, univocal is the wind of the changes of my life.
I scent you, I feel you, and I know you.
You are ever present and all knowing.
I am pleased to taste the succulent nature of your lips.
To see those eyes, so brown, so casual.
The almonds of fall.
The winters wheat.
I am undone. I am washed in the blue of nostalgia.
I seek the solace of your warmth and assurance.
I dreamed that love will never die. I am alive when I cross your borders. I am full on, when in your presence.
Tears cascade down the wall of my soul. I am a water fall spent. Every last drop of desire has diffused in your direction.
Sakura red, and just as sweet as their inspiration and the fruit, the name of which they carry. I am a victim of their influence, satiated, rung out, and empowered.
Pictures of the passion you provoke, pierce me in my quintessence. You are the prosopopoeia. The one and only. The truest most indissoluble element of my quiddity.
I cantillate your name as prayer. I willingly offer myself procumbent before you. I am as you will. I do as your velleity dictates.
Lost am I in a concentration of your propinquity. We two are the sides of a mirror that touching makes all the dimensions reach their convocation.
I see the winds
I feel the stir
I taste the perpetuation
Then I hear you arrive.
SAE
Pears and sulphur. Both carry sweetness and conflagration.
Till one wide conflagration swallows all. --Pope.