Tribal 2

Tribal 2
Art by Norman E. Masters

who are you?

Every woman is Your shrine, Beloved...
the blush upon every ripened fruit is *Your* blush...
their juiciness the heavenly *nectars* of You...

For Who *are* You but Heaven on Earth
once our eyes are opened
to but *live* in Your bliss...

Why then the fear
before the approach of Your footfalls
in the shadows past midnight, up the stairs?

You came but to love
for the briefest of moments... & reassure...

& yet my fears were there
moaning the words, over & over,
struck dumb to all utterance,
"Who arrre youuu....?"

If we be not struck dumb, but remain
caught up in the net of only our own words
-- how are we to truly know You?

Between the shhhhh! of a silent *listen!*
& the next heart-in-the-throat moment
of near-paralysis
You came to me
out of the Shadows of my life-dreaming...
-- appearing so suddenly, out of nowhere
now*here... & as quickly gone...

Phantom fleetly-flicking
in & out of my dream...
(i thought it waking thruout the dream)
& yet when our hands were raised
to clap each others' in seal of our unity
...Your *touch* was real... phantom no more...

"You need me, you *call* me," You said.

~~wynn manners

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