By Sophie Rouméas
Photography by Kharchenko Irina
Soaring in the morning,
the wave of her desire
is growing.
Her lover, however,
although very close,
does not yet suspect
the inner rubedo
contained in her
sacral lair.
She comes and goes
like a serene sunrise.
But within, her spirit
is boiling.
The fire grows
exponentially.
The center
is consumed,
even her heart is
playing with her,
accelerating
in synchronicity.
She is waiting for the moment.
Like nature,
who loves the roundness
of the cyclical element.
She delights in these intense instances,
the sensuality
she doesn’t immediately reveal
in her countenance,
not even in her sparkling eyes.
The moon above
continues her oracle.
From her temple,
she amplifies
the rising tides.
The lady slips into her red dress.
The offering cup fills up.
At nightfall, she will go,
offer a few drops of her essence
upon the immaculate white snow.
She takes her man’s hand—
the wave is at its peak.
Come.