I am both his lover and his devotee. Once during prayer, I freudian slipped and said his name when I was addressing God. Through his love, my spirit expands and my doubts eroded. To him, I am eternally devoted.
You awaken to the sounds of a gentle stream and chirping birds. You lie on a soft bed of dew-speckled moss. Warm dappled sunlight shines between the palms above. The air is filled with the scents of citrus and petrichor. From time to time, angelic apparitions pass by, stopping to gently offer a warm welcome and a kiss. And the first time in far too long, you are completely, wholly at ease. All is well. For W.S. I love you forever, Eva
For as long as I can remember, I have always adored and gravitated towards women. In true Freudian fashion, my earliest memories involve women’s breasts and the soft curvature of their hips and ass. Standing just below most adults’ waistlines — likely at around age four — I observed the way women’s hips swayed as they walked and how perfectly or imperfectly their fat was distributed in the usual places. I watched curiously, forming judgments, adding data to my little inner dialogue. A year later, I announced with conviction to my parents that I would “only marry a girl” when I grew up. The feelings of romance and desire for the opposite sex was naturally foreign to me at that time, and the possibility that I would ever choose to pair up with a male seemed ludicrous to me. Why would I? Boys in my kindergarten class were far meaner, louder, and more annoying than most of the girls; they made fun of me when I did cartwheels that revealed my brightly-colored underwear, or pointed when I h...
No, my body does not “keep score”. My body does not “keep” anything other than the necessary parts and processes with which it needs to function and thrive. When my body is hurt, it will either heal or die, but I will take care of it regardless. My body is God’s plaything. My body is the harbinger of the creative spirit and Life itself. My body is not a scorekeeper; it is a portal.