The New Divine Humanity

My Beloved touches my soul, like a campfire blazing amidst the wind.

The love penetrates my every thought, and rages a bursting stream, as spring announces its awakening.

What dust lies still within the storm.

It is shaking up, the backdrop an hourglass, that knows time does not exist within it or around it.

There is no calendar that predicts passion. It rises with the seasons. Its value, immeasurable.

Who says the bursting forth is now or never.

We ride the waves, my beloved and I ~ as one gentle whisper in a tunnel of darkness that echoes into the face of eternity.

The secrets aged like wine. The desire, perfected in the heart that stirs for more.

We gaze as children in the mirror of make-believe, we dance, and find ourselves, lost in loves embrace, within the dream.

We need not awaken from this, as the touch, the kiss…

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