there is a place,a sanctuary,somewhere inside,where I can restwithout clothes,without mascara,without painted lipssinging staccato songs,and waxed skin glowingin its unnatural perfection,where I am therefor my eyes only,without mindless wanderings,without seductive snares,without violating what I love most,without settling for anything lessthan who I am and want to be,where I can speak with my own voice,not waiting to be received or extolled,where I can stand in front of my heart's desireand not twitch a muscle or breath,where I can hold and burn in the fireof my own wildness and maverick selfunleashed without walls and checks,where I can claim my gifts, my humanness,and a lifetime of storieswaiting to be heard and releasedinto the orgasmic mysteryof all that is and isn't me,for my eyes only.come with me.......as I take you there....

there is a joy that's quiet, 
with no flairs and flourishes, 
nor expressed 
with exclamation and gushes,
just a simple, silent celebration 
of everything and nothing, 
like falling snowflakes 
melting into a warm earth.