Dance with me as light dances with shadow, as the whispering sand prances on the edge of dune, as the sparkle in your eye rivals the desert night. Brace the wood for the starving hoards of my loins, the engine of my need, the sweat of lust and brow, salt of labor worn as leather on chattel, as iron on the indentured leg.Overheard on Bravo, author unknown
1 comment:
I read these words and I pictured John and Kyra in the gazebo from the Sound of Music. :-D A follow-on from the thought of what it must be like to be the recipient of such a declaration and I thought of the light of joy that enters young Julie's eyes and she stands shining, in moonlight and in the affections of the captain. Making myself smile here at how those faces have turned to the ones I know so much better. A little something to do of course also with language and the wonderful elaborateness too seldom seen in life or literature, words once common having become quaint, and more often simply fervour has faded from modern language, less how, more what in terms of communication.
Brace the wood for the starving hoards of my loins
I'm all for the common equivalent, but if more people spoke this way, the world surely would be a better place. :-D Ah, sorry, for all the nonsense this morning, I just think this piece so wonderful, a perfect little extract that could be shown of your writing, its swoonable qualities, rediscovery with every post the virtues of language, the overwhelming beauty that can be formed, a love reaffirmed, renewed, augmented. From my own personal experience, I have loved words always, fallen for many a passage, books and authors, but in reading you, I found a tryst, where heights are reached and there is no hiding or searching needed.
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