Ah! if thy fate, with anguish fraught, Should be to wet the dusty soil With the hot tears and sweat of toil,-- To struggle with imperious thought, Until the overburdened brain, Weary with labor, faint with pain, Like a jarred pendulum, retain Only its motion, not its power" --Unknown
Ah me... Night falls,
again the Fever returns, again…
I toss in a bind, and turn overheated. Fire consumes my insides, unable still to direct this force of energy when ignited. It will never cease in me, it can never sleep for long...
Music, meditation, waters, rhythm, food, connection, art… it excites everywhere these catalysts that provoke the serpentine energy to awake and writhe with desire. I feel feverish, light-headed… spells of vertigo. My body weakens and focus deteriorates. It is a possession that comes in the night and pulses stronger with each trembling breath.
The springs were very healing to me, but ignited something afterward that has me unable to rest.
This past week, I completely abandoned myself to the mercy of the muse. My arms marked in crimson art, drawn from shoulder to palm, the serpent. Even an entire afternoon basking in these waters like a greek nymph could not ascertain the brands of passion I drew onto myself the day before.
The shape of women lounging by the waters, laughing and speaking softly. I could feel my eyelids drop low with quiet astonishment. Even the majority of men there were quite feminine. Something gentle about their energy, even the beautiful one wearing nothing but a water-proof watch. His lashes dark and long, narrowed his gaze to look at me as he tilted his head farther back. I was flushed, sitting too long in these hot waters yet unable to get out. Everywhere I looked, beauty dripping, dripping... everywhere...
The waves right underneath us, as we overlooked the sea from the cliffs. Water everywhere, its force sustained by the infinite capacity of a slow churning Earth.
I was held in the womb of sensuality. We all were. Intoxicated by the sheer fruition of life's bounty.