Honesty
No one will know you
nor could learn
how to touch you softer,
gentler,
nor more intimately
than the cooling breeze
of a summer storm
sent with honesty
from the sea.
No lover could keep you longer,
could love you
more relentlessly
than the long-craved for
climatic summer heat.
The young bronze skin of your body, glistening with glass beads of perspiration from an active afternoon, is the guardian of your intricacy, an ornate temple. Your sacred sentience is enshrined here.
It is when the most inner-ness
of your universe
is drawn to all that is other,
when the godliness
of your existence awakens
that your being
is just as honest,
just as relentless
as the love of our beautiful mother
in the climax of the summer.
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