My Lover

She is so holy. We sing together, in praise of Life and of the Divine. We dance. We dance in ecstasy, in release, in joy. We explore life together, share its joys and sorrows. We consecrate each other, make a sacrament of our lives together. We make music together, make love together, serve the world together.

I love my lover. I worship Her…both the Goddess within, and the fallible human person as well. She is my inspiration.

We eat artichokes together, and drop grapes in each others’ mouths. We massage each other with hot sesame oil, or almond oil. Sometimes we even take a walk on the wild side and use jojoba oil. We like organic stuff; we eat fruit and vegetables together. We make juices together, and kombucha. We share in the bounty of this world.

 

We meditate together, and practice yoga together. We encourage and inspire each other. We hope to be going strong at 108, still doing yoga and going on hikes. We snowboard, like none other. We rock each others’ worlds, like none other.

I love her

I haven’t even met Her. 

I am content to wait forever, but truly need Her now as never before. I can wait a thousand lifetimes, if need be. I can walk a thousand miles, if need be. Everything in my life has prepared me for Her.

I am Hers…forever. 

I don’t care if She gets old, or acts crabby. I don’t care if She is fallible, or all-too-human. I love Her.

We give each other plenty of space, yet are joined at a chemical level, a cellular level, at a spiritual level. I want to spend every second with Her, am fully alive only when I am with Her.

I am dizzy when I am around Her. I feel like a young boy, the king of the universe, the keeper of the best secret ever.

She doesn’t even know me…yet…or doesn’t know who I am.

I may never find Her, nor She me. I am really scared of that.

We help people, help each other, help ourselves. Life is a banquet, a smorgasbord, a masterpiece to be enjoyed. Life together, that is.

I sing Her to me.

My heart cries out to Her, my soul lifts in song when I think of Her.

I don’t know what She looks like, nor do I care. I don’t care if She has money or a job. I don’t care if She has zits, or a wrinkle on her ass.  

She is The One. 

I may never find Her. 

We play music together, and take a lot of hikes and climbs. We love to pedal. 

I am Her man. I’d do anything for Her. 

We like to pick up trash on trails, work at the Soup Kitchen. We sit together at Quaker meetings, and dance at the Rhythm Sanctuary. We live. We love.

I take out the trash, and do any dang thing She wants. I am here to please Her.

With Her at my side, I can accomplish anything.

We read poetry to each other, and feed each other Choco-love and passion fruit. 

We made our TV into an aquarium.

We might move to Alaska…or India. The world is our home, and I am home whenever I am with Her. All love songs are about Her, all the poems too. 

Our time together is a blessed sacrament, a Holy Communion. 

Suddenly, money makes sense, for I want to buy Her a house, take Her to Paris and buy Her a dress. We want to laugh and dance in the streets. We want to hold hands unabashedly, and to kiss in public.

I want to kiss Her forever. I want to hold Her forever. 

She doesn’t even know I exist.