Passionate Toil

Dig deep, I beg you dear lady,
clear the mounds of despair
away from me,

With your golden spade of
passion, unearth my heart
that I might love again,

Take my heart to the crystal
pool in which healing waters
fall, hold it dearly to your
breast, as you immerse
yourself in the cleansing
flow,

Wash away the sands of
time, that they may find
their way to the depths,
never again to entomb
my heart in loneliness,

Step lightly from the water,
tenderly place my heart
upon your chest, as you
lay in the sun,

Beckon the sun's golden
rays to warm my heart,
as it consumes your essence,
resting upon the pedestal
of your flesh,

Suddenly, within the breath
of one peaceful sigh, as the
serenade of falling water
soothes the passionate toil
of your soul,

Your resurrection of my heart
complete, I stand before you,
the man you longed to know,

Passion Defined

In its most shallow form or
greatest abundance who
amongst us can clearly define
passion and love?
Who can truly expound upon
its limitless boundaries
whether given to height or
depth?
Surely not I, however, I can most
assuredly express its profound
presence in my life, as I wallow
in the cashmere embrace of the
heart thriving within my own
Each breath I take is made in
exchange with hers, every
sensation upon my skin born of
her essence within me
Captivating my thoughts she brings
joy to my soul...the look in her eyes
the caress of her touch upon my
heart and the sound of her voice,
all of this and much more delivers
me to a place of countless wonders

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