Rest
His cherubim agenda rises
seeking hungered skin.
And how He muses, tantalizes
with the merest whim.
He leads me to a place
where passion's river flows.
Inviting all of me to taste
honeyed milk repose.
Hands become an an artist's brush
painting my desire.
This Song of Song's an arctic rush,
birthing newborn fire.
Rivaled by the sweetest wine,
his lips become an ocean.
Transporting freedom through my mind,
lost in deeper notion.
I want to pleasure more and more
to taste; to feel, to yield.
To find new ways, richly explore,
what only lover's steal.
Opening myself I'm led
escorted by this flame.
For this I know I have been bred,
to hear Him speak my name.
Lightening flashes in his eyes,
takes me with the thunder.
And suddenly I'm magnetized,
to this spell I'm under.
Can this be more than flesh inspired,
willing heart to break?
My Lord's Arms ; my Husband's Fire,
the Dawn to which I wake.
Copyright © Carol Richard Weyler | Year Posted 2011
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