I tried to keep it in the chest, all shiny and new, just like when i first laid eyes on it.
I kept it in a special place, with ritual I would open up the small chest, gazing with awe of the contents that sparkled against the red velvet lining, my touch was gentle as to not disturb the magick held with in the container but after awhile it did not respond to the ritual as the elements of this world will always rule; eventually my skin grew cold when I opened the chest, knowing what had been there in the beginning was no longer something I could recognize. It had grown into something, all on its own, the smooth edges where now abrasive and it hurt to rub my hands across the once smooth surface that had given me so much pleasure, I would shut my eyes, and try to imagine what had been there so very long ago, hoping that when I peeked inside the small chest that I would catch the glimmer, even so my heart would tighten, my breath was held as prisoner, and my eyes would play tricks on me.
In the heat of a hot summers night, I started plotting on how to replace what was in the chest with something new. And you see, that is where I am now, it is in fact a hot summer's night, the candles are lit and the ritual of change is in the still air. My skin crawls with wet sticky moisture, there is no one around to hear the silent screams from deep with in my soul as it lingers into a deeper place "again" to bring out something new.
She spent the day at her favorite spa, her very own backyard, where trees of pink fluffy flowers towered over her, blue skies melted by the sun brought a warmth to her skin, cold water refreshing the flesh; she was preparing herself for the day. It wasn't just any day as this day would create a new beginning. She chose her attire to frame her pale skin, draped in clingy black silk she began to walk, bare body underneath, a string of pearls swinging in rhythm, she conjured up the wind, revealing what was underneath the black silk, followed by a hard rain, the silk became as her flesh, clinging to curves. The busy street was her stage, she performed for only one,
a young boy stopped by the presence of her, his mind was changed as she walked away.
This is the ritual of instinct, creating change with desire.
I kept it in a special place, with ritual I would open up the small chest, gazing with awe of the contents that sparkled against the red velvet lining, my touch was gentle as to not disturb the magick held with in the container but after awhile it did not respond to the ritual as the elements of this world will always rule; eventually my skin grew cold when I opened the chest, knowing what had been there in the beginning was no longer something I could recognize. It had grown into something, all on its own, the smooth edges where now abrasive and it hurt to rub my hands across the once smooth surface that had given me so much pleasure, I would shut my eyes, and try to imagine what had been there so very long ago, hoping that when I peeked inside the small chest that I would catch the glimmer, even so my heart would tighten, my breath was held as prisoner, and my eyes would play tricks on me.
In the heat of a hot summers night, I started plotting on how to replace what was in the chest with something new. And you see, that is where I am now, it is in fact a hot summer's night, the candles are lit and the ritual of change is in the still air. My skin crawls with wet sticky moisture, there is no one around to hear the silent screams from deep with in my soul as it lingers into a deeper place "again" to bring out something new.
a young boy stopped by the presence of her, his mind was changed as she walked away.
This is the ritual of instinct, creating change with desire.
