Swell of Ecstasy

Oh, flow of seeds
that seek to be pure form,
counted in the millions, so we're told;
building in a swell of ecstasy
that seeks to reach the womb
in a deliverance to form
able to receive the joy
of yet another soul
that lies exposed within a feel
of utter vulnerability.

Here masks do not exist at all
as emotions rise within their fall,
to speak this time in loving verity,
if only for one moment
of the purity this flesh
and form can be;
channeled in beginnings
that refuse to end at all.

And synchronous, immunity is born;
as two to one, another form arises
haunting in its grace and aptitude
seeking to live out its mood
of utter ecstasy
conceived into eternity
without a question or a doubt.

Double the mixture and wonders beheld
become one grace that never can grow old,
as we repeat ourselves in infinite variety
of seeds that bleed themselves
into the flesh of this reality . . .


Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...