The Soul Solitude Kisses

Mother's love grew into a sour myth.
I spewed out her milk
into the Stygian sea
that brought the merchants
whose merchandise were deep, immortal musings
on a new-found love.

Solitude was there
filled with eros that left
every monk defiled.
Unclad she was and full-breasted.
She had a flair for the seductress art that charmed kings to her bedchamber.
Her incense touched the frail spot
of the strong-willed.
Solitude laid bare like Jezebel
Strumming the strings of David's harp.
Whoever fell to her enchantment
never departed less a god.
Saints that fell
found themselves on thrones
at the right hand of God.

How I longed for a kiss
the daughters could not give.
A secret romance
to catch heaven
as a voyeur peeping through the clouds.

In the darkness,
The sun was ripest
luring the feet of this child
straying away from home.
Shore after shore
No compass nor rudder.
Tempest after tempest
I jettisoned all my desires.
Lightless lighthouse
No anchor nor mast
Just wind enough
In the mast of my bleary lonely soul.
I held my life with tired fingers
unwittingly beholding it like
a jigsaw puzzle.
Dark riddles haunted me
like newspapers to a failed government.

But she was worth the several
unholy reasons to leave home.
To die unashamedly for.
She would kiss not the rich in company
Nor sit with the princes dinning on dainty meat.
Solitude kisses only the lonely
Who finds the path away from life's noisy streets.

-Martins Deep