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Invitation to Your Senses

By Sophie Rouméas

Painting by Giorgio Dante, Poi Tornò All’ Eterna Fonte, 2021

The fragrance of my lover—

embedded in my memory.

An unspeakable presence,

this imprint on soul mystery.

My mind roams

then murmurs,

surrender to serendipity.

I surrender,

come what may.

A color—a carmine red

that throbs—activates.

I recognize the feeling

of Her infusing me.

But who is She?

She who invites herself

into any room of consciousness?

She is

the vibration in his voice

as he speaks his sentiments,


through the wooden bench

as a harp song in my cells.

She's the fire in his eyes

when he greets me with desire,

She is that pearl drop of water

in the morning, after a rain,

that sparkles with filaments

on the leaves of a white rose.

She is the grace of reason

when words dance together.

She crowns—with her passion

the one who tames her—with patience.

She was said to be cursed,

deemed unfit for wisdom.

She is banished from such houses

and praised in such temples.

Pure under prisms,

a friend to painters and poets,

she is everywhere, an artist

birthing her canvas for eternity.

She can be learned,

even unlearned,

depending on whether you want

to reinvent yourself.

Don't get me wrong,

She will always be rebellious.

Breathe her in, she inspires you.

Forget her, she fades away.

The usefulness you find in her

depends only on your presence

to let your senses be opened

to let her transcend you at all.

She is the whisper of your dreams

unveiling the audacious you.

She is the seed of your ideas

to manifest your vocation.

An indomitable spirit

of life, matter and emotions,

She arises from a naturalness.

She is She, He, and Plural.

She conjugates all the time.

Be observant, be patient,

invite your guest:

Sensuality is at your door.


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