In the season of passion
the body rises to the occasion:
beyond one peak of pleasure,
lies another, higher, more
more alluring ... and beyond?
Just the infinite sky,
overarching above all
joy and pain, in cascades of light.
There the very body cries out:
enough--I have tasted all that flesh
can offer; truly, I seek no more.
But then, when the months of drought
return, like a salt-starved palette,
the body screams of its hungers:
I want love, I want solace, I want pleasure.
even God needs to be hugged and held
sometimes; every soul needs the comfort
that only one body can give another.
|Copyright © 2005 - Makarand Paranjape|