The Quickening

The sun gleams like brass on the wet leaves of morning

Dreams shatter like glass as the birds begin crowing

The freshness of dawn, oh the nearness of life

The quickness of love, how it cuts like a knife…

…right to the flesh of it, till the soul beneath it shows

Pleasure comes, pleasure goes

To the very quick it flows…

Dark forest of sleep and bright ocean of dreams

It travels the deep and awakens in me

The starkness of dawn, oh the harshness of light

The darkness of lust, how it robs you of sight…

Right to the flesh of it, till the soul beneath it shows

Pleasure comes, pleasure goes

To the very quick it flows