Song

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head
Nor shady cypress tree.
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dew-drops wet;

Love Is My Religion

I have been astonished that men could die martyrs for their religion -
I have shudder’d at it.
I shudder no more.

It’s Not About Sex

We feel the intensity. We know the instinct attention that those three letters grab and sadly forget that after the initial hormonal rush we are seeking far more and yearning greater horizons.

Growth comes from bridging ever expanding circles, said Emerson in Essays of Circles. In love, like creativity, takes us across concentric circles in two directions simultaneously.

Seizure

To me he seems like a god
as he sits facing you and
hears you near as you speak
softly and laugh

Ruslan and Liudmila

For you alone, enchanting beauties,
Queens of my spirit, for your sake
Did I convert to scribal duties
Some golden leisure hours, and make,
To whisperings of garrulous ages,
Once-upon-a-time my faithful task.

When He Comes Back

When He comes Back

When he comes back
to my arms

I’ll make him feel
what nobody ever felt