When It Came to Me

It came to me in a whisper,

a soft sound barely heard,

and yet I heard it loudly.

Was I afraid?

I do not know.

 

It came to me in lyrics,

music flowing through my soul.

The bells of its beat rung wildly

with my heart,

echoing into my dreams.

 

It came to me in a man,

body rough but warm,

hands grazing every pore upon my skin,

kiss wet with lust,

gaze like thrusts of pleasure.

 

It came to me like fire

before it came to me like rain,

burning me, quenching me,

savage like a beast,

then waters calm after storm.

 

It came to me as a child,

bleached with innocence,

then one night it came to me as age,

breathless, flickering,

dying stars.

 

 

Yes, it came to me in many ways. 

Reviews

[Marie Anzalone]

The muse, she is always here, tempting us, aware to us if we look for it. Your words flow like water across stones, each stone an experience that disrupts its flow long enough to be accounted.

[TAO]

Experience? That's what I get from this... The coming of experience, experience of different things and different ways. Nicely done, Ms.