The Song of Desire

Forget what the preachers say

Disregard every sermon you've heard

I, the priestess at love's altar,

Say, 'desire' is not a dirty word

What do they know about longing?

Of the drug of a lover's lips

One who has never been drunk

On the seduction of their swaying hips

They, who've never been woken

with desire banging at their door

What do they know of that eternal strain,

of wanting more, some more?

Covered in numbing robes of virtue

their hearts have never lurched

their skins have never screamed

with a dire need to be touched

In a frightful island of isolation

unheard, untouched, unloved,

where would you and I be

If desire was a dirty word?

Desire is not a dirty word

for it is proof of a living, beating heart

The first bright bold stroke in red

of love's amazing art