Females with Aspergers are oftentimes deep thinkers and natural - TopicsExpress



          

Females with Aspergers are oftentimes deep thinkers and natural poets. The Union She entered gently, the kissing sunshine on her shoulders sweet, a baroness of beckoning light within my dimly lit threshold I greeted her, the door man shy, and took my place at fair lady’s feet, the honey-milk of her scent upon me My awakening came slowly, as the crimson rose blooms beyond time, opening bud after bud to her glory She whispered, her words a chisel of feather soft, her eyes the ebony of compassion, her hand upon my surrendered shoulder Touched, I wept, the tears inside cleansing wounds of sword, fractures of youth’s mourned merriment My every cell moved, beholding this adorned child dressed in blue, the ocean maiden of the distant ages Streams of aqua reborn, merged forward, pushing the heart of past into the baptismal of present, a forest of water at my door Quaked, my very existence stood tall, quaked, the foundation of all truth and valor collapsed without fall, the boundaries dripping as honey, disappearing into the depths of hope I faltered in thought, recalling my place, my duty, and traced the outline of her shadow, a maiden with endless treasure, the illusion of end marking entrance to eternity ‘I am home. I am home,’ the whispers came, a tapping upon the window of heart, an opening to the view of victorious To have found the mirror of me, the echo of my existence, to have found the palm of palm, and coming of my own dawn To watch as her sunrise awakens the world beneath my flesh, calling upon the beast to rise and devour with gaunt hunger what is served, dish upon dish Beyond the cage I sat, wanting and waiting, my crying her own breath, my need fulfilled at the calling of her name The spoken word, a spell upon my lips, a taste upon my soul, to behold the beauty unwrapped before me To behold the mistress of my ache, the mistress of my time and making, the sun captured within the capsule of opened spirit To kneel before the queen of my own mystery and bounty, and melt into the vision as one, my every wish to rest within her endlessly Beyond captured, I retreat into gentle man’s cave, and even there the darkness dissipates, healing blood pulsating across the caverns Everywhere is her redness, her sacrifice, her singing love, and I cannot but help to taste her, as the sugar-coated finger to mouth For she is in me, about me, and beyond, her essence the chalice of my life, and I shall drink and drink until the ocean floor sits alone The liquid of all siphoned into my open mouth, her jewels my own crown, her all, my answered prayer ‘Come, Sweet Lady,’ I cry, come through my doorway, and stay, rest at my side eternal angel, so I may rise again, complete within this union of you ~ Samantha Craft, December 2012 Everyday Aspergers, Post 268
Posted on: Sat, 26 Oct 2013 18:45:27 +0000

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