Embracing the world with positive creativity since Sept 2007.
In the deserts of a souls wanderings for fulfillment,
there lies a waterjug,
a cistern of her loves waters depths.
Her loves waters,
they are contained in this,
a waterjug fashioned by the abrasive sands of loves trials and tribulations;
its vessel hard as his bodies clay when she makes love to him,
her lover that only in his heart,
does she hold sway.
its circumference is as the force of love,
it has a beginning,
but its travels know no end,
it has an origin,
a day in which it was fashioned,
but its circumference,
it is travelled for and eternity both night and day,
allayed to the promise of their love that finds passions way.
She adds her own waters at times to this waterjugs tiny ocean of water,
tears of both ecstasy and sadness,
and in this desert of loves wanderings,
a rose blossoms beside it,
blossomed from the one tear that fell from the lip of it,
this waterjug that lies in the desert of loves promise,
as the skies nestle it both night and day.
the lovers find it,
two pairs of hands enfolded together in travelling it,
the cirumference of this waterjug that holds both their love,
as they look into each others eyes filled with naught but loves passion,
left with nothing else to say.
Their hands shall be entwined always,
now and for'ere more,
upon this common cistern of their loves sacred waters,
a vessel that never shall to the ravages of any of lifes deserts,
the waterjug that their hands dance amongst,
as they send the winds of passions fire to play.
Copyright © 2012 Robert Matejko