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The Time of Eros
I prayed to Eros of the time to be with you: Time has come
to lay his shadow on the sundial of passionate reckoning and
let loose the summer breeze upon the breast of beating hearts.
Let the ripening of our fruit be as the fullness of cornucopia
and give the zephyr winds a few more extended sunlit days
so we can press together the sweetness of the vine to wine.
Let our crimson passion last until final rubrical sunset
as we journey through sylvan forest in unabashed nakedness;
such as it was in the pre Edenic fall when love had no shame.
And now we only have adoring and watching over each other;
and your heart is open to be read by my singular passion;
your mouth has no desire except to be touched by my mouth.
Let your already loosened long hair be as silk in my hands
as we surrender to each other like fallen rain on the moss;
verily, we will resonate in the poet’s songs now and hereafter.
Such interchange is only meted out in the clap of thunderbolts
and when the sun kisses the ozonated mountain tops at dusk;
we are within ourselves and each other in this time of Eros.
