I hunger ...

In the house of our father's genius
I seek neither flesh nor skin
gentle touch nor vicious slap
but only the image.

In my mind I have
of flowing white robes,
a strong gray stallion
and clear blue water
from which all thirst is quenched.

To ride the winds of hunger
to the oasis all around
us we fill our desires of
each other, not mortal sin
or earthly cares,
but of mental stimuli.

When the time comes
For the hawk to be tamed
The dove will not be near,
but close enough
to hear the predator's cry silenced

Only the desert will allow
the images of oasis and trees and water
For once having drunk the hawk must fly.
A never ending story for the knowing
and the loving.