Look up at the floating silver moon in her nightly arc. She walks her shining ways and lights the darkened skies. The clouds press down grey but dissipate Beneath the softest touches of her feet. See inside your mind the veils that drape and hide Those outstretched arms, those rounded thighs The unseen body of her inward soul that fills Blind heaven with her ambiguous dance or chase. Feel the rounded shapes and smoothest cover Of her spiritual sk … Read More

via diary of a randomly selected man