Love
He couldn’t love her.
Though she wanted him to.
He would undress her slowly,
Lips pressed against her skin,
Oh how she thought
He would let her in.
But the pattern you see,
Would replay then.
And soon he would be left
Once again.
The cynicism built,
The love unfound.
Never mind he thought,
He could be happy unbound.
Wandering alone,
He finally felt free,
Until he stumbled upon;
A mystery.
Her eyes naïve,
with a sexy charm;
Reeled him in,
Without any harm.
Though she was quiet,
He was intrigued.
But she shut him out.
She was too worried.
Something changed,
As the pair grew close.
She found herself fantasizing
about him the most.
His muscular arms around her waist,
His masculine touch
And his embrace.
He found her beauty
A cause for concern
He knew she might
Make him yearn.
He wanted to love her
To let her in.
He felt devoted
Without touching her skin.
Though they were friends,
The chemistry grew.
And as their lips embraced
They knew love was true.
You are important
Why are you sad my dear?
Don't you see?
This universe;
whose beginning we know not;
and whose end we can't see;
created you.
You originated from this vastness.
Every cell within you,
filled with Gods divine energy.
You are limitless my love.
Your pulse is the heartbeat of this universe.
You were created to be alive,
To breath in sync with those around you.
Your existence was divinely orchestrated.
The life force energy that fills the cosmos,
Exists within you.
Radiate it my love.
Show the world.
I am the universe.
My life has a purpose.
There is meaning to my existence
I am in servitude
You see.
Everyone who exists
Was created from that life force
We're all connected dear
We create an ecosystem
Our breaths are all in sync
To keep this earth full of life
You are important
Don't ever forget it
You are important.
Cosmic Creation
Shiva sits at his abode,
In complete stillness.
Awake;
Though his eyes are closed.
Shakti dances in devotion.
As her energy flows.
He feels her embrace,
Awakened to the pulsation of her life force.
Overcome by a palpable magnetism,
Shiva and Shakti yearn to unite.
His masculine presence,
Awakening her dormant creative force;
As she flows calling him into her field.
He penetrates her;
Thrusting his life force into her womb.
Her energy awakened only to him.
As they engage in this cosmic dance of creation.
Pulsating the life force back and forth;
His seed planted deep within her womb,
As they orgasm is cosmic ecstasy,
Birthing all of existence.
-A. Priya
Shakti
The purity of the earth is Shakti.
The dynamic force whose womb gives birth to all of creation.
The feminine aspect of the God head.
We worship the manifestations of Shakti at her abode – mandir, churches, mosques.
We religiously worship her physical form.
We adorn her with jewelry and beautiful garments.
We honor her as the consort of the masculine.
But how are you honoring shakti?
How are you cultivating shakti within you?
How many times do you look in the mirror and criticize the vessel containing shakti?
How many times do you compare your body to other women?
Why are you disrespecting shakti?
You honor her idol but won’t honor yourself.
Don’t you see beautiful woman, you are shakti.
You are the manifestation of the purity of creation.
Your womb is the portal that births life.
Why do you reject your true essence?
You don’t know the power you hold, my love.
Shakti is the paradox.
She loves passionately but she is detached.
She gives you all, but she never runs empty.
She flows freely and gracefully.
She is the vibrancy of the universe.
She calls into her life what resonates with her soul.
Her divinity is expressed in her sexuality.
Never used to control a man;
But to nourish his body and create.
She knows the divine power bestowed onto her.
To honor Shakti, is to honor yourself.
When you cultivate and express your divine feminine essence.
You see shakti within all women.
You respect each woman for what she is.
You respect her choices, her mind, you let her grow how she needs to without judgement.
That is true feminism – honoring shakti.
-A. Priya
Canvas of her Heart
A blank canvas.
That’s what they all want.
Untouched by the strokes of the paint brush.
The vibrancy of colors left unseen.
His emotion’s untranslated.
That’s what they all want.
A person untouched.
Where fingers haven’t coursed through his hair;
Hands unimprinted on his skin.
But you see,
He wasn’t a blank canvas.
Characters brought to life by each stroke of his brush;
Where red hues splashed the corners,
Melding into the orange and pinks.
Many viewed his art;
Color blind.
Unable to appreciate the intricacy he weaved,
Some tried to change his work;
Seen in the grey smudges of pencil marks left behind.
But he couldn’t erase it.
Though he tried;
Tears left at the edges.
Stumbling upon his canvas,
She took one look.
She saw the red hues and felt his anger when life was unfair,
The orange and pink where he saw that glimmer of hope.
The calmness of the blue splattered at the center when he felt at peace,
Merging into the purple of his self-acceptance.
She passed her fingers on the smudges and tears,
Feeling the heartbreak he once experienced.
His emotions translated in the vibrancy of the colors,
By someone who could see all his shades.
Who knew not only what each stroke and splash meant
But what brush he used.
Her fingers understood the texture of his canvas.
A masterpiece in her eyes;
She wouldn’t change a thing.
His creation hung on the wall,
Becoming the canvas of her heart.
-A. Priya