in the mists of winter freeze
the shiver, a cold quiver
a voice, a chilling breeze
Like a radio out of tune
the signal clear, then fades away
marching orders, mental disorders
demands of me night and day.
Time to breathe, my sincere request
that seems to go unheeded
so I dream in silent screams
that my fantasy not be impeded.
By the souls of a thousand women
I want to be intertwined
a blanket of plenty, warm and gently
they capture my heart and mind.
The intimacy, unmatched
sinless, the holy divine
an orgy of wisdom, dance of sweet prism
this moment of refuge is mine.
The women of times past
their stories they would tell
of perfect visions, terrible decisions
an experience I know too well.
Then spirits whisper the songs
a known repetitive vibe
that enraptures and encaptures
the voice of the female tribe.
To rest within the earth goddess
and the souls of a thousand women
safe in the hand, sweet promised land
I sleep in godly oblivion.
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