her textural rising

im thrust in the the eye of the storm, willingly led
thrashed against my now tattered edges, dangling by a thread
in the heavy downpour i am blissfully drenched
god cleansing my soul to be quenched
lightening strikes to awaken the sleeping snake
she whips thru my soul like a hurricane with a lust that takes
she snips at the knots in her pathway
she can be wild fearless and free
i abandon all i run too for safety
she shows no mercy with my earthly form
she soars where the sun urgently waits to break the storm
to gleam a blinding light
to reflect deep insight
its like nothing I will ever know
everything i am will show
in my surrender to her claiming
she softens her whip to a gentle taming
her touch now soft sensual silk
her storm calms to feel like warm milk
i float in her wide river of timelessness
my energy body flowing in its fullness
she will return again
there will be no end
to how she rises in natures fury
no jury
for truth
tanya gwizdalla june 29th 2011