Ritual of Us
Within the twilight of the witching hour,
where dreams mingled with reality,
your tongue, a sacred blade, flicks me open—
each unspoken word unfurling from your lips
presses against the ache of mine like a spell.
And I gasp—
my lungs filled with stardust sighs,
as explosions of nebulae grace the dark behind my eyes.
"The clouds parted like the pursed lips of desire".
In the gravity of your kiss, I taste the cosmos,
each particle a hymn of knowing:
there is no holier truth
than to be drawn into your orbit.
The hallucinogenic hymnal hums low,
and secrets spill from me like sacred offerings,
stoking the fire of our ritualistic ravaging.
Our souls swirl with stardust and cosmic lust,
entwined in divine disarray,
beaming through a haze of shimmering particles.
Essence entangles like twin serpents—
coiled hemipenes locked in a celestial trance,
rekindling the ancient flame.
I stitch my lifelines into your skin, silver-threaded,
a living scripture written in shimmering ink.
Within this realm of halcyon hymns,
we are a sensual sonata,
notes melting into ether
as we dissolve, waiting
for the encore of reincarnation.
Our new bodies form
from the shards of broken constellations,
and we descend once more
through heaven’s opalescent gate—
hopeful that fate's hand, in quiet mercy,
will place us again
into each other’s sacred embrace.
Copyright © Billie Jama | Year Posted 2025
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