Sunday, June 08, 2014

The Feast of the Night

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I make myself a sacrifice, the price of loving is precious.
To give all.  Flesh and heart and strength.  The rage of quiet affection.
Perfection a path, not a citadel.  Hell fears my words.  Hush.  Hush
and listen to the roaring silence, imploring a moment, shun
the japing mockery of those who cannot understand that love
is both divine and diverse, perverse and pristine, between the seals
the veils fall and we are left, surrendered, feast to raven and dove
who will both feed on the seed of our coeur rage and what it reveals
about the nature of our barefoot hearts, dancing the patterns found
in the mysteries of our histories.  Kisses in kairos.  Breathe.
Breathe and find my breath in your lungs, an intoxicant.  Hope, unbound
and tied with a ribbon that unwinds where we dare our wills to sheathe.
Accept me for what I am.  All I am.  Lover and acolyte.
This, a holy day commemorated in the feast of the night.


William F. DeVault.  all rights reserved.

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    Explaining the Tags

    You will note, gentle reader, that all works under this blog now display "tags" to help classify and assign the works for your review and enjoyment.

    These largely fall into 4 categories:

    Year of writing, e.g. "1999"
    Book published in, e.g. "from an unexpected quarter"
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    Genre, e.g. "erotica"

    We are still in the process of cleaning up the tags, so please bear with us. Yes, some muses are classified under more than one tag, some poems appear in more than one book, or not yet in any volume, and some years are...hazy.
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