Monday, December 31, 2012

Dark Miracles

Flowing into darkness, savoring the flavor of the black enveloping mist.
Surrounded by velvet softness, touching, tasting, drowning in the senses of time.
Searching for wholeness. Reaching for depth. Trying, trying to find the path through the chronology of life.

Yearning for the connection, the stroke of a hand against soft skin.
Tongue tasting the sweet saltiness of tears gliding down a cheek, kissing away the ambrosia of emotion.
There is longing in the darkness, longing in the silent cries of passion, longing in the forgotten space of pain.

Grasping for the light, begging for the warm caress of pain.
The scent of the honeyed essence of desire, the wetness enveloping the ache of the velvet hardness; stroking, stroking, stroking.
Diving ever deeper into the abyss of craving, seeking for the shadow of eternity, the soul of surrender hidden inside the caliginous cave.

Surrender to the hypnotic ecstasy of love.
Where the soul plants the seeds of hope, of wonder; yearning to touch, even for a moment, a kindred passion.
Dive deep into longing, flowing into the darkness of miracles.

© Dawn C. Davis ~ 2012
Image ~ source unknown

Friday, December 28, 2012

A Fairy Tale...

Once upon a time, there was a girl named Dawn. Her laughter joined the birds in song. Her eyes were as changing and expressive as the moon. Her tears filled the oceans. She could get lost in the sun, in the stars, in the flow of a swift moving river. She was sensitive and caring, taking everything to heart and holding it within herself like a precious flower. She laughed and danced, she expressed herself with words, with song, with movement, with service. She desperately wanted to please everyone.

She grew up feeling everything deeply and being told she was too much; too sensitive, too caring, too stop being who she was. The people who told her these things were well meaning, but the damage was done. So she continued to live and grow, she made friends, tried hard to be what they all wanted her to be, and couldn’t figure out why she was not happy.

She spent time learning music because it spoke to the emotion she tried to hide. She learned how to dance because it was an outlet for the emotion she tried not to feel. She read books to escape the drudgery her life had become. She wrote stories to feed her imagination and try to find her dreams again. She took pictures trying to find the light. She sought god in the religions of the world, trying them on like wedding dresses, searching for the one that fit her dream.

She made love with abandon, giving her body freely, even to those that did not deserve it. She was drawn to submission and pain and discovered it was a way to release the pent up emotions that she had learned how to hide. In her search for god and for someone to love, she discovered that She is all that she needs….but not all that she wants.

She studied the bible, the Koran, Qabalah, Hermetics, Thelema, Sufism, the philosophy of the ancient Egyptians, and was drawn to the stories of the ancient Picts and the Celtic peoples. She discovered the sacredness that is sexuality and the union with GOD through the joining of sexual energies with a partner, or through self-pleasuring. Her goddess came to her through her discovery of the pleasures of pain. She became a priestess in a religion that “almost” fit her perfectly, but she was unable to find the “other”, the person, the priest who could complete her rapture in her devotion, so she moved on, searching, ever searching.

She is learning to love herself as her goddess loves her, devoting herself to the bliss of pain that leads to the release of self in sexual abandon.

Her story is really just beginning, the journey through wanton desires, sharing herself for the healing of the world through sexual union…with one, with many…it has not been fully determined yet.

Her laughter once again joins the birds in song. Her eyes are still as changing and expressive as the moon. Her tears still fill the oceans. She still gets lost in the sun, in the stars, in the flow of a swift moving river. She remains sensitive and caring, taking everything to heart and holding it within herself, nurturing that precious flower. She laughs freely and dances with abandon; she expresses herself with words, with song, with movement, with service. She loses herself with wild abandon when a trusting hand administers pain…and pleasure.

The ending of one chapter leads to the beginning of another. Her story continues…

© Dawn C. Davis ~ 2012
Image ~ Source unknown

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

Quiet Darkness

In the quiet darkness, I hear a whisper,
Touch yourself; know the pleasure of my release.

I move to obey, hands squeezing breasts,
Pinching nipples until they stand hard and erect.

In the quiet darkness, I hear a voice,
More. Feel your wetness as you show me the joys of your body.

I am drawn to obey, fingers gliding into my folds.
My wetness spills over my hand, my breath coming in short gasps.

In the quiet darkness, I hear a sigh,
You are my daughter, my sacred whore, my priestess. I love you.

I scream with the release my body can no longer hold back.
B A B A L O N !

© Dawn C. Davis ~ 2012
Photo ~ Source unknown