She is the golden skin
by lamplight.
She is not the beauty
they see
in her face,
her eyes,
her hair.
She is glorious
alone.
Without the eyes of others.

She is the golden skin
by lamplight.
She is not the beauty
they see
in her face,
her eyes,
her hair.
She is glorious
alone.
Without the eyes of others.
Oh, this is the depths of desire!
How wild winds do blow
within the halls of this longing.
Lingering aches
clutching at far off stretches of my truth.
Built over lifetimes,
tasted this day:
I see you, raging humanity.
How hungry you’ve been
for my soul,
my flesh,
my fire.
Good morning, sun.
And good morning to the girl
who sits quietly and smiles,
amused by it all.
These hours of twilight.
How soft they have been,
like rain on a dusty summer road.
Here I am.
A woman, at last.
Home in the truth
of this soft heart of mine.
A rose of musk in bloom
this day.
And every day beyond.
I am a wildfire.
Where the flames fan wide
and the blue ripples split
the deep orange stream.
I cannot control what is wild and free.
I cannot control
a wildfire
like me.
Wade me in the waters of sensuality,
sweet ocean of mine.
Show me the girl that I am.
Call to me the woman that rises
within.