Vigil of Eros

 

Vigil of Eros. 

3 a.m.

How can I sleep?

In the history of night

nothing like this radiance

has ever fallen

on a human face.

My lips receive her kiss,

the nectar of silence.

From the nipple in the pit

of the galaxy

I taste a stream

of blackness.

Between her thighs

The ayin soph throbbing,

quivering each atom

in her body of stars

with electric pleasures

of the void.

As a crystal chalice

becomes the color

of wine,

so I take the form

of the beauty I behold,

passing through veil

after veil

into the nakedness

that sees itself

whirling.
Does the moon not
humble herself
with a borrowed splendor?
Thus her beauty is exalted
by the invisible, the
unendurable sun.

She is melted lightning

and I am her breath

of annihilation.

One who would father fire

must fall in love with darkness.

What absence could be
more luminous

than the gaze of Kali,

Goddess of dissolving?