[Eadha Deora]

Mortal love is not enough, so I say.
How many times have I kissed love on the lips,
pressing its sweetness into my depths,
oh fragile beauty like a pool after the storms.

Yet in his eyes, he who loves me best,
there is nothing for me but a great wide yearning,
prairies on fire with the haze of noon,
and in his eyes, the sun and moon
reflected with a daily passion that drives
me further to the skies, alive! alive!

Let there be light!
The great lover stands eclipsed
by cataclysmic union of sun and air,
for I am the heavens, arms spread open,
bejeweled with ten thousand desires
insatiable by human hands, and in the space
between, love radiates through, filling
emptiness with a beauty higher than truth.

Mortal love is not enough anymore
when you have been pierced by the gods
and died the little death in ecstasy of bliss,
filling the inner atmosphere with a brilliance
that can never turn its back to you and die.

[Vorcla]

Truly beautiful, honey. Just wonderful. Sweeping, almost epic. The words and phrases, little double entendres ("dying the little death.") etc. Your imagery raises goosebumps on me - Gaaahh! Tremendous.

[Rakkasan]

Very good. What did it for me was the third stanza. It seemed to be the wrap in which all the ingredients were stuffed. Then, the fourth stanza lent the garnish for the final presentation. Made for a great meal. Thanks. I really enjoyed it.