Sunday, January 31, 2016

Ajarn Wu Hsih writes


holding onto a web
woven into the edges
of rainbow quilt,

i wander in the rhapsody
of the unstruck sound,
led by eternal longing
for the sweet lotus scent
emanating from her navel
bedecked with jewel.

with each beat, i pause
and i sip from the vine the wine
pressed by three thousand maidens
moaning in unison, "aaaaaaaah!"
but my beloved's moan i yearn.
in the dawn, upon awakening
from deep slumber
after dreaming of her and i
being not two but whole, nude.

 Auguste Rodin ‘The Kiss’, 1901–4
August Rodin,  Le Baiser ("The Kiss")

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