Visions Of The Erotically Sublime

When the youthful heart dies, Our dreams separate from our soul, We accept drudgery and regrets, We no longer believe in love, We think it is impossible to escape Into the world of an exhilarating kiss. And I’ve become a lonely vagabond, Tramping my way through memories of desire, Praying to goddesses in the darkness of night To rekindle the romantic fire Hidden in the ancient psyche Before humanity became tamed By duties and responsibilities Stifling sensual adventure. I’ll no longer subscribe to any idea Suppressing the hope of exaltation, I’ll no longer walk any grey concrete path Forever avoiding verdant fields Lush with blissful affections And ripe fruit dripping with lust… I’m only going to trust The primitive man unburdened with beliefs, Children playing joyously on summer streets, Nymphs dancing beneath inebriating moonlight, Singers inflamed with bowls of wine And visions of the erotically sublime.