my Moon Goddess

I saw them as crows in the distance.

            We were sitting on a wet bench on the coastal side of somewhere, Massachusetts. These two older gentleman, members of the new meetup group, were sitting to my left and right with large winter wind coats. Above the spray of crashing ocean on the cliff side, there is a mass of black dots in the distance. Like harsh black pixels on a gradient blue sky, they fly in. . .for us! As they steadily approach, we begin to see truth--small harpy ladies, the size of large crows, come in for us and swarm our space. Much like sirens, these feathered nymphos try and seduce us with their awkward bird-like goddess attraction. . .but us mystics know, if you take a bite of the apple, the apple will bite you. So we restrain our primal sexual desires and run off to the car and drive off, bird-women pecking and harassing at our windows.

            Through dirt roads and ancient forests, we arrive at a Victorian mansion. It is the driver’s house and there is company waiting for us there. Walking through high-ceilings and glimpsing naked statues, we ascend a marble staircase and find ourselves sitting in a circle of 10. A group of oddity, strangely beautiful women and men of age of color of lives and of magic. To my left, there is a skinny love girl with a short shaved head, a fading red buzzcut sitting atop a bright face with high cheekbones--a red white striped shirt on small breasts and a tight butt in old denim. To my right is a very large, soft chunky gay black man--melting chocolate smile and pleasant deception in wide eyes. An ancient Egyptian relic, a dust-golden bracelet is being passed around…everyone slides an arm in it, feels the power, acknowledges the magic, and passes it on to the next person. With each passing, the giver must exchange a silent kiss to the receiver in whatever way seems appropriate for the moment of gifting.

            As the clockwise passing comes slowly my way, I notice the leader tell him...or rather, I telepathically hear the leader tell the man to my right that I am not homosexual and that I would prefer not to kiss (true words, nonetheless I am a man of ritual and lips are like fingers in a sensual world. However, the leader mistakenly misinterprets my vaguely specific orientation. . .I am a human, androgynous to the core. While my phallus is presently attracted to the female vagina, I am wholly indifferent to the idea of gender-based Love). To my right, the gentle-man passes the form-fitting bracelet to me, after I peck him with subtle lips. It fits perfect and I am instantly rushed with a kingly nostalgia. The room dims as my aura brightens with the old shine of ancient gold. Perhaps it is perception…or maybe the power of subatomic energy…or it could even just be the grand illusion of a wizard’s mind! Whatever it is, I coolly slide it off my wrist and pass the magic to the oddly pretty girl on my left.

            Something familiar in the eyes of a stranger…I hand the bracelet to her and she’s just waiting with a child’s smile, a face that tells me she doesn’t really care for the acts of this ritual. Silent communication has me knowing that she is here only to find me and to exchange a private conversation between pressed lips. Crossed legs unfold on the carpet floor and an almost hesitant lean-in brings us to each other. Oh, the familiarity one’s lips can reveal! For at that instant, I remembered who this girl was…in the subtlest way her thin lips and cute teeth would suck and cuddle on my lower lip, or the way a tongue, like a shy moon, will only show you slips and slivers until the waxing is melted. Two goofy smiles for a nostalgic kiss. She tries on the bracelet..ehh, whatever..passes it on with a short peck to the next guy, and fixes milky stars like eyes, back onto my stunned gaze. A moment passes and the short ritual is over and people stand for refreshments…the girl comes at me with cool quickness and slides back into my arms, remembering love at touch and feeling finally with familiar lips. The group leader clears a throat to interrupt and gently explains that this is sacred space and that no two individuals should seclude themselves to just each other (apparently the meetup group was an open orgiastic sexual circle of some sort). Despite his direction, I felt compelled to wrap my emotions around the girl like a cape and disappear. I had strong thoughts of making private, intimate love with this girl and only her. It would be more than sex, of course. But I pull back from cherry lips and look into eyes. Eyes like mystery, pupils like answers. She’s silently laughing with those steady eyes and I know! I now know why it’s so funny! This girl, with a radiance like a flower budding forever..this sacred body before me, containing my perfect twin flame, carrying my cosmic parallel. This vessel sitting in front of me, holds the soul of you, Nataly. And we both laugh in tears because I barely finally understand.

 

Then I wake up into “reality”, still laughing, in my bed. I am alone and  

bursting with giggles and wet smiles. I steadily calm myself and breathe the air of this world and I let out a simple sigh. This woman, she comes and goes, like a good ghost or a lost moon, in and out of my consciousness, my dreams. I do think I know her…and she seems to have known me for longer…or it’s more like, she’s waiting for me to remember. To remember it all. And no, it’s not the girl with the short red hair. And no, it’s not just my girlfriend Nataly. It’s the girl with the stars in her eyes. It’s the soul with that story in her smile. It’s that entity, or spirit, that patiently begs for me…to remember…to forget the illusion of all her different forms, and to feel that touch of all-encompassing nostalgia adrift. I could almost say she’s in every girl I know--the omnipresent Spirit of Female, hiding inside bodies like shells. Forced into the karmic loop of reincarnation, eternally shape-shifting her way into the present of my elusive life form. This thing, this spirit, this woman, this love…this is my Moon Goddess.