Monday, February 16, 2009

Wild Hunt





Every once in a while I get stumped for something to write, so I sit down and let my fingers skip across the keys and see what comes out. It's going to be one of those nights tonight.

Maybe I have exhausted all the current subjects or maybe it's just the wild wind outside shaking the trees and sending garbage cans flying that has me on edge. It could also be the weight of work and things needing fixed and my car not cooperating when I want to go somewhere (a problem that will be fixed when my solar powered battery charger arrives). It could also be the approach of the solar return when the stars and planets are in the exact same alignment as the moment of my birth more than half a century ago that is throwing everything out of kilter. It's on nights like this when the Wild Hunt gallops past the door calling my name to join them as they whirl on the screaming winds past unsuspecting souls that something inside clamors for release and the urge to throw open the door and greet the night is too strong to resist.

It's at times like this I remember all the tales of the Wild Hunt and the dark serpentine forms of coursing hounds after prey and the Hunter moves from his quiet stance in the star crusted night to run down the night. I admit my imagination takes dark and shadowy forms on nights like this and I am anxious to throw open the doors of memory, let loose the guards and settle into sleep to follow my dreams wherever they lead. Tonight there will be no dreams of half naked men who clean rooms and whisk away the debris of the previous night's revelry or passions rising to be spent and spent again. Tonight there will be dreams of haunted feverish yearnings where desires are unveiled and fulfilled beneath the lash or riding crop or taunted, teased and stroked to the very edge of madness before the final shuddering release that is the prelude to excess and excitation brought again and again to the heights when muscles, nerves and flesh tremble in anticipation of orgasmic relief.

Spring is close and I feel the rising tide flowing warm and deep within.

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