Your limbs have reached that moment in the twilight of innocence,

As your every movement makes earth a weightless floor,

The envy of gravity’s bewitching and enrobing suspense,

With childlike, perfect determination, you soar.

Yes, every move, every move is pulchritude,

All and only captured in your wave, that shall rest

In the magic of your private universe, that watches, nude,

Like the silence of a lonely deer in a wintry forest.

For you are the melody and rhyme found within,

Mozart’s heavenly form and Goethe’s divinities –

So effortless, and yet so awesome, the Eternal Feminine,

It is only the Eternal Himself that ever sees.

In your eyes I see the welcome of your flesh reaching me,

Within your lips, a dream-carved cavern of my despair,

Sustained by an unfathomed need that shall always be

Our distances, which sadly enough, is all we will share.

But opened is the burgeoning sunset of your bouquet:

The accolade that every man has thrown to you, fain,

Like birds succoring to a Snow White’s arms in May;

In each pirouette, a new woman and more – Karen Kain.

Thanks for your encomium, Lina. The "goddess" is not a domme, only a metaphor for Grace Slick, the lead singer for the rock band Jefferson Airplane, later called Jefferson Starship, subsequently expurgated to Starship.

Warming me slowly with mountains of melodic iciness,

Creeping up and unwinding, like a cobra, in the unctuous, eerie blueness –

The condor swoops down upon all listeners, choking them with winged licentiousness.

Down fathomless canyons her echoes are felt dropping.

From a witch’s fingertips she keeps haunting us with a spell, so enchanting,

Then the lakes of my eyes dissolve, my mind shuddering, as her voice starts ringing

When she caresses the scepter she pours her lungs into, by purring and whining.

Passionate, the robed goddess lunges into us with harmonic tongs,

Romantically wreaking beauty so enamored with words, that everyone longs;

Like a woman with a whip, we’re chained to her heels and her songs.