RAPTURE OF THE NIGHT

In twilight's tender, fleeting clasp,
Where fire’s hues in ardent dance entwine,
Thou art the breath within my grasp,
A whispered dream,
a passion’s sign.
Our souls entwined, like ancient vine,
In realms where stars and shadows weave,
Thy lips, like wine, on mine incline,
A nectar sweet, where gods believe.
O passion’s flame, thou burn’st so bright,
In thy embrace, I am unmade,
We are but echoes in the night,
A rapture that shall ne’er evade.
Thy touch, a tempest of pure grace,
Calls forth the worlds where we are one,
In thine embrace, I find my place,
The keeper of thy soul’s rich sun.
Let time forget its cruel design,
For in this breath, eternity’s shown,
As love, divine, through thee doth shine,
I am thine own, and thine alone.

© poembyselly