He sent me, not carnations, not roses, not chocolate, not gold, not platinum, not diamonds, not a card, not perfume, not on an expensive trip…he sent me himself. He came back to celebrate our anniversary. He accomplished another victory and he is coming home, again to me, safe and sound.
I picked up the simple note that was sent by mail. The wolf howls. Ah, I love how he begs! He chose to send it on hand-crafted stationary that he keeps on hand inside his planner. As he wrote it, he held his wrist down intentionally so that I could smell his slight scent of what sings to my heart as a brightly lit fire cooled with snows and warmed with glowing night skies. I had placed it on the dresser, the light from the sun highlighting the crème of the paper, softly and hungrily, every letter, word and syllable. Each note pauses in between the three words, taking in the eagerness and desire. His back arching back and my back arching forward, like the willow and oak of the forest of trees as they are bent by the steam, as I please him that pleases me. Mightily, tremendously, exceedingly, terrifyingly, dangerously, joyously, blissfully…happily as we united and unite day after day, night after night. Made our home within each others hearts and extended it outwards to encompass the Mother and formulate our only child together, thus far.
As I prepared for his homecoming, I thought of my dark angel. Broad and spacious is the road he travels, but selective in his company, tender in his love and caresses, soft in his voice, hard in his demeanor, deep in his acuity, protective in his growl, dangerous in his silence, weighty secrets in his mind, as Keeper of secrets. All of me wants all of him as he gives his all to me. Out comes his favorite dress: a simple golden silk gown that slips over my body and covers the floor when he wills it to.
I thought of his face, the richness of his eyes, glittering with sparks that fly. A lion with a full mane and roar, a panther that slips in and out of the night, the cheetah that speeds in his flight that will come into becoming an even stronger tiger that is the most deadly of all, like his father. As I remembered his face, I felt his beard, his mane that he wears as a sign of his status in his family. I felt his lips, soft and smooth with a ferocity that belies his warm spirit that he hides all too often from those that would need it from him. I felt a wistful and sad feeling come into me, feeling my heart break more than a little for his one and only, his one and only child, Gabriella. He sees her and not, knows her and not, but he really is afraid of her, because he sees too much and feels too much underneath. With that, I decide to change my dress to one that will remind him of when he poured out his heart upon the altar, of starless skies, of moonlit seas, of glowing spirits, of warm nights, of cool breezes, of mysterious fog, of limitless stardust, of newly found paths, of the time he chose to accept his father's decision to have him marry me. It was not hard to accept, al-Zabba, his voice of the deep drum called in my ear in the deep breeze of the dark before the day of our wedding. In fact, he said with a smile that he reserved only for me, it was far too easy. I was afraid that you would not accept me, as he allowed me to see his vulnerability, unthinkable for all but me.
Each day gets better, our bond becomes closer, stronger and more powerful, immutable and clear. It is not sweet as rain or its rainbow, but as divine as electricity. Take a chance with me, he asked me because I did not as yet, say yes. Oh my dark angel, your wings cast a shadow over your heart. Show love for yourself, allow yourself a radiant beam of light to touch the soul of you that your mother attempted to steal and replace it with her black, raven spirit.
But I must leave that musing for later for the master of my heart is here.