Mesmerizing, raindrops
falling upon a pool.
Ripples akin to psychedelic
incantations.
Arousing, lightning
rubbing and grinding,
release akin to celestial
orgasm.
The solace of a storm,
womb-like, the blanketing
rain. An excuse to be shuttered?
Nay, an opportunity to retreat.
The sky, he thrusts sporadically.
I see a flash across her face,
then hear the thunder
of her moans. I bathe
in their diluvian outpourings.
Their chalice emptied,
to be renewed by hot
and cold fronts combining;
the migration of birds.
A volley of hail covers the sky
as ten thousand English arrows
rend her landscape.
A lovers spat, his tears made hard
by cold shoulder.
The roaring of the rain
is turned up to ten -
there is no formula
for predicting what climax
will be reached next.
I gaze like stunned spectator
for each fresh revelation.
Masterful play-writes, the sky
and ground; commercially
inviable, and so forgotten.
Though the show has gone on
too long - the audience, exhausted
by this heart-holding display,
wish only a return to mundane,
yet we cannot turn away.
Another flash!
Another drumroll!
Another flutter,
Within my heart-hold!
No comments:
Post a Comment