SOC Writing _ 6.9.21

Yoni

In time the magic came – slowly, throbbing and in a long while I could only sit back and smile at the marvel – the joy, the wet pleasure of you. I have been dry for my entire life – lacking the clear way to express myself sexually – this black hole that all manner of shit was thrust down – this fantasy land that had only my hands to wrought any life from – but a pale and measly substitute for my true vocation in the intimate sense. Flowing truth from the core of my heart – the pulsing of my being meeting your being is always a devotional space – turns into a temple of sorts made by our two bodies.  Gates made, opened and entered – heat from the core touched – healing and reminding of ancient reality – that we indeed create worlds when we meet, so much intensity, so much made that I am in the most current location following dislocation – following the following of you – your sound, fury, love, light, eyes – sky-light - in the dark a new alchemy amasse – like closing your eyes on acid – continues further on and farther in – the internal world of my body at once like an x-ray machine – can see myself inside you – can feel a 3D experience rotating us in some galaxy – turning – turning as this earth does around this sun – rocketing through time and space as if in search of home – always searching for home – why home? If we came from where we are – we are not dislocated – but rather caught in a thousand thoughts – like astral debris that confuses our passage – beyond the small scale collisions of our bodies – a wider journey is taking place - that we are on with the whole cosmos – seeking, always expanding, opening and closing – wet and dry – pulsating and still – like creatures representing the billions of passage years that accumulated everything we now discover in real time between my lingam and your starlit yoni.