Warming up my feet

Last twilight I was sitting down writing,
And my feet went as cold as a winter night,
And even I closed the window for not let
The wind takes the best of me,
But nothing did work yet.
I even censored my legs and feet putting some
Grey earthly socks on,
But they did not help them getting truly warmed,
As, still, the frosty haze kept coming from the ground.
I dared saying they were cold,
When a gentle young prince, whose skin was as mild as the rains,
And whose eyes were as sharp as swords, came to me
Embracing me, calling me, desiring me,
He took me in his arms, carried me to watery lands eastward,
Point the horizon with his fingers, letting me know we were going farthest the bluest lines,
All I could do was entirely listen, sense and treasure every second
Of touch,
Of sight,
Of smell,
…
I COULD not help but following him diving into the deepest waters holding his bare natural hands,
And swam into his sight, his saliva, his thirst and hunger as,
We both got cleaned into each others soul:
He came to me, as a wave of the shore.
The heat embarked me, as ships invade the sea to fish.
The passion released ran in my veins, as horses run free feeling the wind touching their nakedness, and the coldness disappeared eternally.
The waters steaming, boiling, as lava almost ready for its all consuming overflowing:
Powerful
Absolute
Hallucinating
My feet, as earthquakes, part the earth into halves, abysses and canyons could my soul slowly see,
I was lifted up high, watching the stars from above, and could then, notice my mate holding my hand following my horses, chasing their trace, penetrating the smells, sipping the sweetness of drizzle, while we were riding in the lofty lighted space,
Covered by hide tides of delight, clinching upon us, just like fire burns it all,
Or like water gets everything all wet,
My feet, caught warmth, as a chimney supply fire, in the chilliness of February.

June 15, 2006
15:13 am
EMA