I am wakened by impulse... I feel concern for my loved ones... the circling band of feminine affectionate, who populate my life, call me into confusion. A big full brooding moon peers through my window. Thankfully, peace reigns on this mountain and I can collect my thoughts, in these wee hours.
I have a need to follow through on romantic opportunities, despite the whirlwind down-drafts and disturbing chills. There is a greater urge within the tenderness of concern, the folds of skin, the scented seclusions of intimacy.
Breath deeply, relax my jaw, and understand that it is a greater death done with love. Compassion calls at times for aloneness and distance. That may be what is needed now, yet the pendulum will weigh in again... bringing with it the deeper rooted truths we each bare and care so dearly to share.
I will hear their voices, their accolades of love and their brutal analysis of my vices. Their truth with melt around me, as the pains of a new spring reveal the scents hidden by winter snow, on the tundra of a billion defecations. Honesty has its price.
Yet in the end, after the methane has dissipated upward and cleared the air, there will be flower blossom from ancient fruits, consumed in exuberant passion. This truth telling will some how make sense... And we will again wear garlands around our crown and rub our lips together.