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Flash of thought fuelled,
Fraught with inspiration,
Taught by heart to sing and soul,
To understand: I miss your holy hands.
Thoughts turn to dross in absence,
Thicker than a mist,
Lips cannot speak for dry of absent kiss,
Arms do not fold back nor incline;
The mind is webbed,
The flesh is vacant of caress,
The fingers, cold with the memory of impress.
If I could scent your hair, once more,
And tune me to your walk,
Could taste the light and dark of you again,
And talk to the laughter of your eyes,
And twine the tall silk smooth of you about my brow,
Like rainspill on the bough.
I need no longer muse myself,
To sleep and wake to day,
And say your name and see your face,
And still find you away.
For Koshka - the soul of my soul.
(Written by Roger of Lunel.
During the 1st Crusade, 1099).
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9 Articles
Tibetan Horoscopes for 2009., Jan 16, 2009 - 05:36
The Year of the Yak by Sementawy Horemheb - with suggestions, insights and encouragment by Fenton Brigantes.
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Current Amount in My Cashbox:
67,994 strti.
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