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~ Enlightenment ~

Oh, I fall into the well of your eyes

Deep as the night and blue as the skies

She was remembering His gaze, those deep pools of blue, crystalline in nature, peering deep into her soul. She OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERAremembered the first night she had looked into that darkness – no, into that light in his eyes – they were level and straight, kind and compassionate, without any ado, Her hands in His, offerings of comfort and concern for Her station, the concern she felt for those close to Her, each to their own heaven or hell, and the law of attraction began to build.

Not entirely sure of His path, Her own life was filled with random and sincere individuals, transience was the commonality of public life – few friends – closer friends, even rarer. She had asked his name, and then his father’s name, that name which people gave carefully, or not at all, as this would give away the whole person – she had asked, instinctually, although curiosity was perfunctory to Her, as she remembered the formal aspect of individuals, unless She was drawn in a more personal way – He had not hesitated, but had given Her what she desired. His eyes never wavering.

She had known deep Wells before, she remembered them all, the wind and passion, but she felt, in a strange new way that, maybe, they would meet again, and this had proved prescient, and meet, again, they did.

With time, as things had presented themselves, their irregular introductions, had covered a rather random interval of contact, but the last two encounters had brought a whirlwind of awareness, coupled with the various transitions of life, making itself ineluctable in its forward movement. She saw beauty in the male form, and He seemed average – if not for the eyes.

Soon, their meetings began to be more frequent and the sky seemed, at times, to part for Her, and for an instant, clarity would emerge, as if the dead in Her, were coming alive; She was courted and suitors were myriad – but all came and went in a whirlwind – many had laid their intentions at Her feet, and the milk and honey flowed, but this power in Her life was strange fruit indeed.

The Cradle offered much of what She longed for and, yet, it lacked a substance, which could only come from living things, the things that made Her, what she belonged to – an opposite, flesh and blood, in the fashion of a friend, partner and lover, as well as the unabated passions and openness, that she had for so long, been denied.

He was fire.

When He had first offered Her his compassion, had taken Her hands into his, His gentle stroking had sent a power through Her: first the right – to take Her energy – then the left – with His right hand, sending His energy into Her, then completing the circuit between the two of them. He then stated that He would “commit to a burning,” one in which a positive prosperity would be sent Her way, and affecting those she loved and cared for. She did not quite know what to make of it. All she knew, was what She saw; his eyes would not deviate from Her, the sparkling of His gaze enticing and moving Her. She had felt no fear, and welcomed their meetings. She did not ask ‘who’ he was, but accepted His presence, that subtle and powerful attraction she had forgotten, seemingly, a lifetime ago.


She remembered the first time he had kissed her with a quick “kiss me,” and he had gently pressed himself into Her full lips – no probing – just an honest, if not earnest, connection of the flesh. Living dangerously, perhaps, but she desired that, needed that, feeling the blood bidden, hotly, and engorging her entire body.

She was always aware of Her own desire, and her breasts, delicately sensitive to the touch, would always resonate with an embrace, but this had proved different, as the smallish areolas seemed to leap when He kissed her, forcing their way closer, into him – and She felt his fire. Even Her sex, larger by degree, the outer leaves filling, and the pounding of rhythmic motions consumed Her – She left with a lighter step, as she departed that day.

She had taken him, on the second exploration, to her Cradle – she wanted to share it with Him; and there He performed something that, up to this point, had never entered her life: a Healing and sensual power, motivated by his intentions.

Firstly, He espied Her erect nipples, softly embracing the thin tunic She wore, and gently He circled one, then other, with the center of his hand; secondly, he placed his left hand on Her lower back, and then with his right, placed His hand, briefly, on her stomach, then backing away; as he did, She felt a tremendous Heat, developing between herself and His hand. In circular motions He moved clockwise, She was not counting, but focused on the sensations passing into, and through Her body; suddenly, he stopped, and the fire from his body seemed, if for an instant, to build, like a Man would, before release, and pushed this energy into her, deeply filling her entire body with heat and movement – she remembered for a moment, that he had whispered in Her ear: “Some have experienced the ‘small death’, but I want you to contain it, and do not release it, but send it up, and through, your Sea of convergence.”

She did feel it grow, this heat and movement, traveling up the front of Her body, through Her neck, and then entering through Her forehead and then, resting on Her crown did, in fact, pass through Her ‘sea of convergence’ – although most of the power had filled Her body with the fullness of sensation and sensuality. She had left that day, with a joyous smile – and a hoot.

This experience had awoken something deep, within Her.


She had seen the ‘look’ in His eyes before, it was usually of a passion of well-intended suitors (passion with no direction), but instead of this type of undirected hunger in Him, She saw a deeper, if not also a more knife-like intention, than other men in Her life – She was not sure, exactly, what that meant. She had informed Him, in a cursory way, the feelings she was experiencing in her life, the routine, the aloneness, the obligation, and He had listened patiently, calmly, and had simply started to change Her – with kindness, with whatever he possessed – or had been blessed with.

She was no stranger to prophets, sages, and healers, after all, the valley was full of them, well-intentioned individuals and not. For the first time, however, She acknowledged something different. He had never claimed to be anything other than someone who recognized certain differences within himself, and was in the process of discovering these gifts again, as many years had come between him and these natural gifts – strife and chaos had consumed him. The calculus of war had taken him early in his life. To Her, however, His spirit was calm, focused, and his kindness and intentions seemed unusual for the valley.

It was soon after, at the Temple of the Goddess, after praying and singing, She had briefly sat with Him, tears filling Her eyes, His voice compelling, kind – He had placed his hand on Her face, and through the aura of emotion and intentions, She saw a subdued fire flash from his eyes, this had overwhelmed Her – She firmly and steadily, tears brimming, had told Him that She loved him – She saw the stoic and placid look He gave Her – his eyes narrowed ever so slightly and said, “Words are nothing without intentions,” and did not, at that time, affirm the same to Her.

So it went, and the days passed into weeks, seeing each other in passing, a glance and casual meeting, but all had held the magick of the Heart. She was, in fact, somewhat reticent in allowing Her inner feelings to be spoken of, yet, He saw it all in Her emerald eyes, the way she would cock Her head, tighten her brow, or break into a smile and tears. He was falling into Her, and He was needing it more. Patience was the watchword of the day.

He would wait.