Sexuality informational articles

Divinity seeks god - sexuality

 

She sighs as a flute, dimly emitting silver echoes of her rapture. This is the sacred song of a female, a woman, whose aroma is rising to the mind, where petals fold back, releasing a white-gold energy into infinity.

The rushing of the red transforms all through the heart to elevated thought, where sexual feelings develop into Divinity and God fused. They barter their buds of desire, mouth to mouth. The crust of self-protection splits, and the fluids of love rush out with delight. They possess.

The cries of divine remark become calm to frail weeping, as a rose who has acknowledged a full shower of dew. In the amusing half sleep that follows, she cannot entirely appreciate that she has partaken of the Goddess. She was, for a minute of time, a Goddess. Did she not leave her mortal body and flee to the environment of spirits? Was she also spirit? Then is she not Goddess? Why did she benefit to human flesh after drinking with him? Perhaps, as two serpents of love they weave and dance about each other, until their heads and eyes see as one. Their fangs pass on to each other the venom of ecstasy, and they reach crosswise the boundless space in a faint dream. Therefore, in this life they are able to touch concisely the Spirit and God they are and hint what they might be if they awaken.

She lies with the foliage on the reforest floor, struck by love, and left to carry on her days. A further time she will meet him with whom she shares the eons of the spirits, and they will writhe, unchained to the passages of flesh. Peace is hers as she wanted her male and he called for her name to the mountains and the winds, and requested the mermaids to consign to him the woman he looked-for to show him how to be a God.

There is much misery for a woman who cannot find the balm of their soul in all the countless males she ventures upon. Emotionally, she said she was not a fortress, she was weak, and for that reason met the beasts of the world defenseless. Why didn't she see that she was a Deity and born to the earth to take her throne? She let many men enjoy her honey, her precious nectar. There was no price for it apart from a collateral of love. As the dawn came, her liquid had been robbed; her face in the shimmering mirror was as the ebb tide. Over time, she became the comfortless hag. Her beauty, once as a see-through magnolia, withdrew into the deep cracks of the desert. Waterless, she could only offer grassland prickles to those who went by, and, equally, no one gave her a prize of hope.

Yet, clear of the rivers and woods, an added Deity spoke with a fragrant spirit. A Idol who waits for her lover, flouncing all the way through many gardens of blood loss plant life so she can appreciate the pain of intimacy. Her feet are battered from administration away.

Patiently she has kept her sweet gel in a blond jar seeded with pearls. No man had fulfilled the value, for which she asked divinity. This Spirit be felt herself in an inner mirror? the cloak-and-dagger voice alleged of mysteries, which are to be seen inside the crystals. Observing the men of the earth, she saw intense hot auras of red passion and proud phalluses that spun off energy to the four instructions like bolts from the hand of Thor. Rapidly, these free flames imploded, not capable to shoot diagonally the dimensions. They were nonentity of themselves but a primal urge. So, the Deity knew the bursts of man, and wished to meld with a select one. A God, who would be probing for a privileged entrance; not to wet the earth with his fertility, but fire himself all the way through the veils of the universe while she sang on the flute of her expression.

If there seems to be a famine of Gods, it may be the fault of the woman you presently are. You must work with awareness for your aspiration to manifest. You have to dine with the spirits of the upper realms to befall at one. Light their candles, drink willingly of their wine and consume their food with all honesty. Be in charge your Elevated Self to as the crow flies your compass. Open your front door and sweep the steps sadistically, for today you fixed sight of yourself. There shall be no more mercy for the pitiful, godless being you were. Write your advertisement in the air so every attitude may assist you: Deity seeks God.

Esmerelda Jones. . . journalist of old curiosities Victoriana, Victorian Swoons, Victorian Erotica


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