THE DRAGONS BUTTERFLY

THE FIRST BOOK I EVER WROTE: 


THE DRAGON'S BUTTERFLY


A Manuscript on the possibilities of sex in the sensation of a child that know way too much…as if I had been here before.  There was a an unnatural curiosity for a Muslim girl such as myself already cleared for the moral police in deed and consideration of my self.  The reality was however, there was an entity that I had then called the Dragonfly, then later known to all my senses as a Dragon and then knew myself to be of the butterfly people like a muse and a thought that was a fantasy to him…


I lived in his world when I slept, and he would have his way with me.  He was my captor, and I his favorite slave, and most precious possession.  There were others, toys and possessions, trinkets and baubled entertaining things of all creatures in creation…there were the fractal beatific patterns of one another, but as he would look at me as if with were the answers to all his questions, and his most fascinating self was fully engaged in my joy as I was his. 


There is a favor in the eye of the beloved.  There is bounty in the tear he sheds at the thought of not being able to protect we, with his huge hands, and powerful calloused body parts, chafe and honed.  Hard-won scars of the fight for his right to rest with me.  There was an honor in that for me.  A victory of the beast that would rise up to defend me, being cowed and pleasant to see me happy with him.  There is the massive harmonic vibration pattern that filter from him into me when he enters my sonic vibratory field…we need not be physically near…but he will fill me with a sense of whole fullness that is a sonic orgasmic distraction from all other senses. 


He can make me com from a million miles away, in a thought, singing me on a melody.  Rinsing me from his thoughts momentarily just to rest in me when his day is done.  Presiding over my space, because he ever did…he loomed over my body and mind…and yet was not here.  He was always coming to me when it suited him, appearing on a stair well in college dorms, accosting me on the steps in my apartment…taking me over when I had nothing to offer but sadness at the loss of the loved ones I buried within my heart.  I am always subject to his lustful energy and ever seeking in the corporeal, not to be satisfied until he permits the allowance of the physical…


As I age, it seems he does not.  He has appeared that same brood-ish figure he was on the day we encountered our 13th year. I believed he wed me, and in order to justify these feelings and sentimental gushing I would attach all these feelings to a man.  That Swordplay, lasting to the day of this missive, was a disappointment at best…I think like singularity and spooky action at a distance connotes I imbued him with the Dragon because I wanted to believe that there was some part of me that was with him here.  There was no him here, to be had.  That was the turncoat truth! 


The love I was revealing was for the spirit of the man not the man himself.  There had to be an outpouring for this massive love bucket I had filled for this part of the man that was really only know inside of me.  This is the trick to loving any one here other than the self that is your real and corporeal lover…this is why we love ourselves best.   I know what I want, as does he, He knows what I like and what makes me tick and scream and fly….therefore there go I. 


With him, there is only spirit and bondage to one and the other, so I thought he was a devil of a bounder because I could not seem to be free of his grasp on me mind and body.  I would only have to think of the wings on the cage of my body, there in were we last lay, he would be.  Outstretched and powerful in his apparition, there I would always fall to my knees and please him in whatever way he desired, and then I would be satisfied beyond my own knowledge of my satisfaction…again and again…like the reciprocity of the fractal moving in the semantic cymetric patterns of the vibration of my harmony within and without. 


We are in unison with the pleasing…as I please him, by proxy of the love I give, there is unbound pleasure in the light that is created in his eye.  With this prism of love he shone to me like all the colors were absorbed in the moment and all other  matters were wisps of imagination fleeing from the most real ever to live in a shard of light.  Bracing myself for the activation of the single most amazing efforts in this life and being rewarded all in a kernel of time that could fit into a tinkling of laughter.


Like the consistent blows of the blacksmith, the song we created was soothing and consistent when I realized I had the ability to do to him what he did to me all my life…I could enter his dimension at will.  I could cross the "strings" as there were called and "jump stream"  that was the colloquial phraseology given to the shift of porting over the dimensional cursors and margins; Boundaries of space time. 


There were rules that at this time, I didn't know about the affects on my body and my mind when I crossed.  I was then, just amazed I could do it.  I am the crystallization of the dream on this time line and he has made me for himself, the dreamers dream, creating me with his every thought.  There is only one seeking we will do with this life, and all of it is a miracle of our own attestation to the truth we experience and the creation of the blessings we expire forward to…outward formed then only by his desire…born into his secret security of the most high places that we could unite and unify our powers. 
Within. So inside, were we are without space-time and we become apart of the ether of either of US, we become. ...the Dragon's Butterfly.