Destinations

The topography
of your woman's body
speaks a map
of promised delight.

Your eyes,
deep brown oceans
to sail within;
your lips,
yielding portals
to the unknown;
your belly,
an undulating plain
of pleasures
to cross;
your breasts,
gentle, rising,
white hills of joy
to climb;
between
your soft thighs,
a ripe female valley
of desire
to enter.

Above it all
your spirit
soars
like flocks
of doves
in limpid
morning light.

Only to be worthy
to cross over
into these
promised lands.

New worlds
to explore;
new creations
to pioneer:

New places
where souls
might touch.
- mce