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Tuesday, May 3, 2011

The Unveiling

She walks the threshold of the bed, every footstep setting off his pulse. She turns, and the air stills. Her hand
arches over at the shoulder, tenderly undoing buttons and time. The clothe sails effortlessly to the ground,
whispering against her skin, and with each piece, another fear, another insecurity, her every vulnerability, she lays before him. She removes and removes these pieces of herself, until nothing but her hands are left between him and what she holds so dearly in her left breast. As she lays down, completely invulnerable to the world and mortally vulnerable to him, she doesn't see how the stars themselves gleam with envy at the light that bursts through her every fiber, cell by cell, burnt and bought back to life in the raging fires and fervor of love, shining like a path to the very heart of the cosmos itself.



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"When the one man loves the one woman and the one woman loves the one man, the very angels leave heaven and come and sit in that house and sing for joy."
Brahma Sutra

2 comments:

  1. So a friend passed me your blog saying I'm going to love it. And I really do. I think I read almost everything. I love it its so beautiful. The way you put your words together, the imagery it makes me think of things differently. It takes me away from where I am at the moment and brings me to another place. Its very beautiful. Thank you for doing this. Please whatever you do don't stop. You surprise me all the time. I love it.

    “Peace goes into the making of a poem as flour goes into the making of bread.”- Pablo Neruda

    A great poet and one that I just recently start to fall in love with is Pablo Neruda. Pablo Neruda loved poetry. He sold all his belongings to publish his first book. That in itself is pure heart. There is so much to say about this man. Just beauty and I love his work.

    With that said
    I really like your blog, very talented. Thank you doing this.
    :)

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  2. Neruda is indeed a magnificent poet. What you said about his life reminds me of another poet Ferdowsi, who sold off everything he had to write his book "the Book of Kings," and eventually lived in a hut on a large estate that used to belong to him.
    Thank you very much Asha. Your words have helped keep me motivated to write. I will try my best to remain deserving of them.
    One love

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