A Wandering Gypsy...

Dancing, dancing about each other in strange ways…
Like stars revolving in the cosmic theatre…
Then fusion, a merging of like souls…
A synergy of separateness, we dance…

Fingertips barely touching as they caress…
Tracing patterns and spirals in the mind’s eye…
Breath warm on skin, lips brushing…
Giving form to passions, beyond all words…

The gateways of the eyes, delving deeper within…
Enraptured embraces, candlelight memories…
Pulse, breath, blood, a harmonizing of selves…
Blending together, the Fires dance…



Five to one, baby
One in five
No one here gets out alive,
now You get yours, baby
I'll get mine
Gonna make it, baby
If we try

---The Prophet Morrison