There never were the slightest flaw
In the rose.
I quickly exile a dissipating breath,
Stifle the flight of swans,
Reflect ancient floods
And where the streams meet
Veins, rivaling the moons charm,
Saving the sweetest kiss beneath the flower.
I lift the empty glass skyward,
She parts my vapid vision
Piercing my mute witness,
The smooth horizon breaks,
Waters cluster in harmony
An endless song laughing in waves.
She is divinity, chasing my caramel skin,
Spreading adultery over the contour
Of my sunset stained breasts.
Beauty is entwined in this embrace, stripped
Of voice she, idolatrous drum solo
Seared across ancient desert dunes
Tracing rumours until their flame dies.
Passion, all but rouged bursts from the figs heart
A frenzy of tears, now that I am ripe
Let the savage bliss of God’s bouquet
Frame my blessed sin, one delicate finger,
Mouth open in flight, poised,
The petals of a rose mingled into a disheveled kiss.
Anahita – The Ancient Persian Goddess of fertility, healing and wisdom… the divinity of ‘the Waters’.
(c) A Hannan
Inspired by the post ‘Arianrhod’ here: Shining City On The Hill