Feeling the Rain

Sex
Exists in the mind
Seducing
Imagining
It stirs thoughts to their edges

Sex needs liberation as it comes in meticulous packages
Within passion magical foam
With an especial seal and warning: The Spirit lives inside. Be aware: Fragile.

Sex
Gives us enough reasons to be organic
And also orgasmic as it plays
With those cosmic weird seconds of mystery
Making time quiet and still

Sex is mine,
As the color blue of the artist in my soul
Sex is yours,
As the color gray of the drifter in your soul
Sex is ours,
As the stars come out in the night,
Or the sand becomes our mat.
Sex is us,
As drizzle is converted into mist.

Sex is the miracle that happens when two bodies encounter
A word, a sight, a secret smile exactly when desire appears.

Sex is the gift the Artist have granted us with,
A fruit, a candy, a delightful creation
Of invisible power.

Sex takes it all without requests,
Receivers of its sacred stillness are content with harmony,
And there is no more pain, but heal, a secret ray or flame
And tranquility
And energy
And craving for some more.

Sex will never end, unless your mind ends,
Unless your soul dies,
Unless your spirit goes,
Unless the timeless Light takes you up,
To heavenly pleasures so far unknown.

E.M.A
July 6, 2006