O love! This contented night of a crescent moon lie sweetly b’ neath a drunken sky, and your hips of round succumb to the dark, the burn of love persuades me to dance naked with imparted lips, the slaughter of my soul…and finger-tips. The tilt of your head as the burn rushes through, the salted flesh as you kiss my wounds. Your back, your breasts, your virgin thighs, entices my time with your dark glazed eyes. We build this altar from love comes two, as this cycle of seasons drinks a kiss from you, then freely I say! So alluringly imbued.

Divinity sleeps within us but rises to the flame, the candle in the darkness assails each vice a blame. Though beauty sleeps like an infant child, a stable’s length away, where beads of round curled ’rounding the urn, prayers lifted again, once more today, as the virgin loin’s blend where two will play out each other’s fleshly request. Beauty’s plea, her cry, of a Siren’s new birth, the earth, the sky, the moon at our feet, petitions which pulsate the flame and the burn, the I in our we will never possess you, no matter your love which sweetens new heights, I ask of your favor to lend me your hand, embody me, personify me, I, a slave in your land. Silhouettes from the night as we burst out as flame, release from inside your hijab as myself do surrender – this lion to tame.

Though losing our essence, where within the depths of this blackness we lie drunken in love, we – are nowhere to be found, but within there is God, who performs only and through this stillness of grace, and of the diffusions of discernment, so deeply imbued – as his Voice remains silent, I think, Yes! This is his Face.