Shaman Untitled

... long ago in the timeless now, we traveled, when came a shaman giggling in the glee of bringing us chest-to-chest, his eyes mirroring our lustful wonder of nipple-kisses in burnished darkness, a dawn flooding our mouths in feverish melding, and the wind opening, ravishing us to find our roots in olive groves between the pillars of our thighs, temple incense, earthy aroma and soil-pores birthing obelisks taut and sweetly anguished for the suckling moon-circle of our lips, and the shaman sighing in sanctifying the curve of my nether realm as your mount of worship fed on your furrowing seed, sung by hissing, the sacred pleasure of toes curled like your hair washing the valley of my neck, your fingers against mine counting, then crushing the blasphemy of time spiraling giddily into the flirtation of your eyes challenging the irises in mine, asking, begging for us to meet again and again until the sun is finally watching, begging for a temple of its own and us inseparable by even the sword of its rays while the shaman smiles in sleep, exhausted by our satiation - … yet, come, there's morning on the far side of this orb, but no more luminous than the furnace of our lips embracing our ageless now … so, kiss me - kiss me, love, again, again and again...