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Will I Dare You?

By Sophie Rouméas

Photography by Vera Petruk

I, a sometimes-hurt woman,

have dreamed a hundred times

the union of passion—

but a constructive one—

one that raises its frequency

and manifests pure energy.

Last night, you looked at me,

a sacred magnitude in your eyes.

Oh my god, is it me you see?

A rush of surprise.

I, explorer of the senses,

will I support his faith?

Your name means pure water.

I open my source to you.

I'm not alone anymore.

I found my earthquake—

the one who rides me—

the one who makes me want

to pause before daring

to step into his sun.

I arrive

on the surface of sacred restraint,

at the top of the mountain,

deep within my soul,

on the edge of your heart.

From your epicenter,

you look at me.

I'm coming to vibrate you,

will I dare you?

We need a varied garden,

a nomadic and deep anchoring,

a mad desire

to love,

a generosity

to honor,

a heart that wishes for completeness—

but can be happy alone—

to support this intensity

within oneself.

I feel your thousand lives:

one who walks the path,

one who dares to reinvent it.

One who succeeds in everything,

one who is not attached to success.

One who acts in poetics,

one who loves as a scientist.

One who walks with his eyes to the sky

and who explores the depths of the break.

Molecular agitation,

moment of refraction,

you are allied to dispersion

and re-harmonization.

We become

our own new sequence:

a common destiny

on the random variable.

I can't resist playing

your effusive octaves.

You encourage my boldness,

will I dare all the way?


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