Thoughts touching on a tantric level,
pleasures unfold,
caught in a moonbeam,
ships that drift into a nonchalant harbour of desire,
casting long shadows over a rippling sea,
like a soul caught out of the body,
longing for freedom yet cannot be cast adrift,
circling these incumbent yearnings are the great birds of reason,
awaiting to taste the spoils of our misdemeanors,
yet within this paradox we float on ebony streams of cerebral bliss.