Oh, how I delight in the taste of my lover’s scent as she cries out my name! In my arms, a slender orchid worshiped to soft placidity, she murmurs do I still yearn for my virginity? And I whisper, my love, ten thousand times ten thousand times, no.
For what we tender feel in lost virginity is not for lost virginity alone Not for a shred of skin or a drop of blood; what human being mourns this? That small ***** we feel is the eternal mortality of all lost first experiences. Then let us thank the Gods they spare us, for now, our last virginity.
Think now upon the family and friends we have lost to disease or hunger, to time or accident, to addiction or war. How shall we remember them if not their names? How shall we speak of them? Will you remember me? Or shall I become as dust in this temple?
Loudly, all my loves, hear me, come now with me! Let us leave this temple for a time, walk with me to my secret garden where we shall remove these robes and look upon one another with the gift of acceptance and where we shall place flowers in our hair.
Where we shall hold hands and walk a bit farther to the river and bathe one another in the moonlight. Then let us return here to celebrate the memory of the fallen as the Gods intended. Let us remember the names, let us speak the names and lest we forget, cry out their names.