Ecstatic Union

The soundless voice whispers
It speaks wordlessly in my head:
‘Give voice to me.’
Words which beg to be given substance.
What are words if they are not spoken,
not written?
All things seek their purpose,
their potential.
It is the craft of the writer
to help words reach theirs.
‘We are not substance until you give it to us.
Pull us out from the void,
Give us life,
Breathe meaning into us,
Thus breathing life and meaning into you.’
It is quite the codependent love affair,
quite the symbiosis.
‘I need you.’ whispers the seductive voice.
‘And I need you’
I reply with ecstatic abandon.
The madness takes hold –
as this lover consumes me,
every inch of my body it’s willing servant,
My eyes go wide
and lose focus
as it overwhelms my senses –
I know not where I end and it begins.
‘Am I birthing you
or are you birthing me?’
‘We birth each other in this union.’
I inhale sharply
the ecstasy pushing me to new limits.
As I reach out
and touch the divine face
of my mistress, my master
my muse.


One thought on “Ecstatic Union

  1. Pingback: A Brief Note on my Writer’s Craft – Call of the Syren

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