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The beach is my Holy Land and we lie together our bodies intertwined as are our souls, perhaps within this sacred temple Do you know that I would take the silver from the tops of the moonlit sea and sculpt a wondrous idol and I would pluck Castor and Pollux from their distant homes lighting the eyes of your likeness with their brilliance. As I sing to you, the words are carried off in the wind and lost in the crashing waves, and your fingers touch my lips my eyes my nose my ears, grazing over them and pausing only slightly over each one, as if to bless them. And when you kiss me, I have been baptized. The sea spray obscures your vision, You cannot see my lips form their dying prayers to yours. I want to taste the wine that is your mouth again, to drink in that sweet delirium I want to take the bread that is your flesh my altar is your body stretched beneath me and your words are my ritual music. I look through the windows of your eyes and run my fingers through your ebony silk hair and I know the nature of God. The pearlescent moon is your halo of humanity but I see only the light of the divine. The words you whisper in my ear become my mantra, echoing over and over as I give myself to you releasing the music that has risen in a ritual of love |