She is calling…

She is calling me to the Wilds and whether I like it or not, I must go, for there is work to be done. She fell back into the shadows again, into the underworld, Her reasons Her own, and every so often there was a flutter, but the intensity, the passion, the bared flesh rawness was gone for a time.. Maybe it went to lick it’s wounds.. Maybe it went to Shadow to allow Light to be seen… Maybe it was the blink of an eye on the time scale that is not linear. But now Her voice is loud and clear and I must go. I must run to Her. She is calling. And I know better than to ignore Her, and why would I ever want to? My soul is bound to Her. My heart burns for Her with an intensity that scares the breath out of me at times. She is Everything. I am Hers. Wholly. Completely. She IS my blood. She IS my breath. She IS the crest of the inhale and the tantalising pause at the bottom of the exhale. She is seduction. She is desire. She is the bated breath as you wait for the ecstasy. She IS the ecstasy. She is the rise.. The skilled touch. The moments between. The nuances. The locked eyes that don’t really see anything and yet see so much more than they ever knew was possible. She is the sounds you know you have not fully realised yet. The sensations that have no name because they are so far beyond entrapment in words that it is just laughable. She is that pulse that is felt even when there is no touch at all. She is that look that could render you so full of sensation with one glance – were it set free – that you would remember who you are instantaneously. She is the fire that rises and is insatiable in it’s will to be known. And it will be known. She demands it. And it isn’t remembered out loud yet. It isn’t known in the general. It is felt in the extremities, and the hidden places..
And it is beginning to beat
and louder
and louder.
By pulse.
By pulse.
The space between each beat just that microsecond longer than you are expecting, and this raises the tempo of your elation higher,
and higher,
and higher.
And you are lost to it.. To the feeling. The feeling that is beyond words and I would insult if I tried to capture it. For it is not to be caught, or trapped, or tamed. Who would want to tame the Wild? My dear, you can NEVER tame the Wild. It is an impossibility. The Wild is precisely that: Wild.
Are you ready for the Wildness?
Are you ready to remember?
Are you ready to have yourself ripped open and left dishevelled and bleeding, begging for more?
You have known nothing yet.
Nothing of Her trueness.
Nothing of Her Nature.
Nothing of Her Wildness.
You have glimpsed the very edges. You have peeked into the Void and marvelled at the limitless expanse of passionate play there is to be had..
Because you see, the joke of the work is exactly that… It’s not the work that is the work. It is the play that is where the changes are rendered, where worlds are changed, where consciousness is exalted to it’s rightful place.
So are you ready to play?
Are you ready to play for Her?
To serve Her?
To laugh with Her?
To love with Her?
To pleasure Her?
To touch Her?
To feel Her?
To know Her?
Are you ready for the Wild?
For the passion?
For the pleasure?
For the ecstasy?
For the joy?
For the play?
For the Work?
Are you ready…?
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