Come Again Into Our Tent

I sink my head into your wellspring of Life and drink,
And I do not even think that even at my least I may feast
At your table where you are guardian, lover and priest;
But without you present in the tent to augment,
Then the water is insipid and the food savorless
Because nothing is good to me in the sadness
Of the absence of your essence, and I weep
Because I cannot keep my heart from breaking;
It is like a wrecking of my soul and I am an empty bowl
Without you, so strong, beautiful, true and ever new!
I long for your emerald eyes and your voice, the choicest
Of all voices in earth and heaven, to leaven my spirit
With the fine wine of gladness, to guard against madness;
Oh, so where are you now that I am bent low in this tent?
I crave your smooth bronzed skin, your sculpted chin,
And hands of iron but gentle, and your chenille cloak;
Come quickly again or I’ll faint under the strain;
Let me see you now walking down the main lane;
Let me once more rest against your breast in our nest
And breathe easily while dæmons seethe in indignation
And frustration at the elevated sensation of our relation;
Let me again wrap myself in your arms against all harms,
And then the water will be sweet and the feast fit to eat!

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4 thoughts on “Come Again Into Our Tent

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