And so I stand here once again –

where Angels came to rest their weary heads.

among the wavering grasses,

Lost to all worlds but ours,

we lay here side by side,

youth adorned by wild flowers -

watching clouds take on daydreams.

Golds and Blues of Buttercup and Cornflower,

feathered green grassy stalks towering above.

Hand in hand, fingers entwined,

hearts forever twisted out of shape,

lips forever tainted with ruby lust,

minds forever etched by young love.

The song of the Skylark twinkled.

The warm breeze brought the scent of you.

The softness of your breasts a memory;

the smooth pathway of desire;

the giddy inflation of delight.

The sweet perfection gained by greedy toil -

celebrated, breathless, elated,

and then... is lost... again.

It is a place we both know,

that will never leave my heart -

not even when, as surely time will allow -

it is covered with terracotta boxes,

or mangled iron pathways to nowhere,

more meaningless adulterations to real beauty;

to what we had, we have, we shared.

And I remember as in a dream,

once I watched you

slowly wind a pathway up this leaden slope,

with tears freely flowing,

with loss not understanding,

your hands frozen white,

your love torn away by death,

a future fear then growing inside you.

You were behind the cortege

that carried me on a bier.

My body swaying, involuntarily, side to side,

in unison with the step of the pall bearers.

Beneath a mantle of printed cretonne I lay -

and on top, white chrysanthemums ...

and I lay ... so far away from you.

For we had known there, the scent of rosewood,

pachouli, saffron, spices, camphor...

and had seen around the flames -

through the pyre’s hazy heat -

their faces, chanting, mourning,

but never sad to see me go.

I yearning to be with you;

be inside your hair,

inside your gentle folds...

feel your breath touch my skin,

your hands touch my cheek...

to be ecstatically 'at home'.

But then I was sad here:

Alone.

While you chose to flee and

fly free from my suffocation;

lost to my burning desire.

You, brilliantly alive with youth

and having expectation of new love,

of rekindled fires ... away from me.

You ran.

You jumped.

Moments of pain

amid the pyre's flames

were as the orgasm

of giving everything to me:

Through sati.

So the cycle nears its end?

Once more round the wheel we go?

This time, all I need to do, is turn,

retrace my steps;

fall into the waiting arms of Aphrodite;

and be lost ... again,

not knowing how

we will meet,

who we will be,

just knowing

that our love

can never die -

can never end.

© Griffonner 2024