Dakini, Reinvented

Baubles, bangles and beads are hauntingly beautiful, swaying in the wind, mythologized by jazz greats. So are sweltering summer days and sweet summer nights and vacations to such paradisios as San Jose and Mallorca.

After an intensely emotional 3 weeks of loss and remembrance, came this weekend with new experiences and sacred blessings.

I made love to my lover and companion this weekend for the very first time. Strange?

Each experience no less beautiful, no less passionate; this experience, however, was humbling, connected and new all at once. Travel with me....


His face is beautiful. Simply divine. The messages of his eyes and his lips anoint my soul with loving anticipation. He is slender, but this night his body is unusually formed, full and broad in my eyes. His glance is intense and his arms are shelter.

Sitting in the parlor we exchange coy glances filled with the knowing familiar to lovers old and new. My soul is ready, but restless. The touch of his hand in mine quiets my anxiety. His touch is devoid of harm.

No words are exchanged that hint at the journey we will embark upon soon. He takes my hands and leads me onto the stairway to heaven: ascending toward our sacred boudoir where our experience will take place.

I worship him, God, towering before me... bare, beautiful bright beige skin. Green eyes glowing with the power of the sea. Kneeling before him, he is Pygmalion, I Galatea... He molds me out of the blessed dust of passion and into the aether of love.

Candlelight glows eerily in the sacredness of our private temple. Our eyes meet. Our lips meet. Supine, I receive him, first tense and apprehensive, but yielding to the burrowing of his very self into the core of my feminine being. My mind is gone away now and only the shell of me is left. My doubts subside, the selfishness of my heart withers away.

The release of my barriers signal to him that the time has come to place me firmly on the throne of the Goddess, facing him, her divine consort. I find that our passion has the power to incarnadine, as the mystical green sea of his eyes are made red in the flickering glow of our temple.

He is Sango, god of lightning and thunder, wielding his lightning bolt with power and command, protecting and honoring the sacred temple gates. As I straddle the firmness of his beautiful, god-body, absorbing the electricity generated by his blessed lightning rod and the power of his roaring thunder, Goddess emerges. As my passion floods in, the song of my voice summons Osun, surrendering to those sensations, familiar and exciting... shedding my earthly self with finality... embodying all that is lovely, and new, and sacred.

His lightning strikes again and yet again, followed by the rolling thunder of his power, illuminating my soul and making the glow of my cocoa brown skin merge with the glow of the candles in our temple, now half burned. Each strike empowering, each roll forcing my very surrender, the experience healing, for the love of a God can only heal the soul of his Goddess.

Tickled and nearly spent, teetering on the verge of sanity, I submit completely, and Sango recognizes the call of my heart and my sanctus sanctorum. I, deserving, am placed supine upon the altar of Sango, reserved for only the most blessed and only for the most sacred of blessings.

Sango solidifies my reign by crowning my loins with the fire of his breath and the touch of his moist, firm lips. He worships me through the torrential rains invoked by the storm of his lightning rod, the roll of his thunder bolt. He crowns me mate and companion, lover and friend, pledging his forever love as he kneels before his own altar upon which I lay before him... his gift, bare, receiving.

My soul can wait no longer. I explode, shattering into one million shards of golden bliss. Osun travels. Osun soars over distant rainbows, out into the universe, clothed only with the sun-clad sky. My body is hot, drenched with the rains of love.

His ceremony continues uninterrupted by my screams of passion. Oblivious, what energy remains is kindled into roaring fire and in less than a few moments burns to explosion yet again.

We are warm. Each part of my body is satiated, spent. He absorbs my energy which increases his fire, empowering him to dance this sacred dance again, very, very soon.

Drained, I turn onto my side and he lays behind me, penetrating my precious, sacred temple in silent meditation. I am far away, but present at once. I am the earth, my knees mountains, my breasts hills. A river flows out of me and away into the sea. And he is the sun, rising between and over the mountains, bathing the hills in light, and finally setting behind the deep ocean of my crown.

We are one.

We are the happening.

New ears for new music and new eyes for the most distant things.

Possibilities are now probable. I, black magick woman, am found by my divine man.

None of this possible had it not been for the first, blessed, beautiful touch. Right there on the steps of that dark venue, darker even with night. In the cold of approaching winter, An exchange of heat signals the beginning of divine union.

If I had never touched you the
first time

I'd have never felt your magic
moving me

Never learned more about the
mystical sea of love

Never learned more about myself

Never regained my feminine mystery

Never opened my heart's eye

Never felt the magic of your
loving arms

Never


I'd have never learned my truth
again

Never healed under the light of
your sacred touch

Never seen the sounds of precious
silence

Never touched the center of
my love or called your name

Your name is my champagne wish and
my caviar dream

Wishes and dreams have never
filled me with so much hope

Never


If I had never touched you the
first time

I could never have given you the
very soul of myself

This is an affirmation of love

This is my secret part

I am giving it to you

Thank you for letting me touch you

For making possible all those
things that would have never
chanced themselves

Because without your touch I could
have never loved you

and I love you

and I love you

That blessed touch
found our love


These words, old, just today made new. Bless you Daka Man, Love Warrior, Yoni Master. Your divine touch has made me whole.