Honeysuckle

To the divine feminine

That night i was with you i felt
you draw up water from your roots
becoming intoxicating
like honeysuckle

the softness in your eyes, your hair
expansive, glowing

seductive

i felt myself occupying a space
i never knew before
some divine masculine

and inside i burn with
the knowledge that
this is not about art.

this is about being lovers.

where do we learn the art of love today?
from whom?

internet forums, french cinema
and bad pornography?

this sex, no more than jumping:

a leap of faith,
brief ecstasy,
a letting go,
relief

this is the merest shadow of another way to love

in some strange ancient way,
like remembering a long forgotten dream
i can hear the dragon in you
and know that i was born to fly her