The Will of Pan (Ode to Pan)

Evening mists
That creep and crawl
Must give way
To the Summer sun
Grasses drenched
In sodden dew
Will glisten in
The caustic hues of afternoon

Such is the will of Pan.

Flaming skirts
Of autumn leaves
Orange, and red, and gold
Dance upon
The zephyr of twilight
Falling silently
To sleep
Upon His domain

Such is the will of Pan.

Winter's breath
Upon my neck.
Icebound lips of blue,
They do kiss the snow
Before blowing away
Lost to the evening's
Befrosted paths
Lighting the way to the unknown

Such is the will of Pan.

The soft
Grass born of the
Frigid night
Returns to the light
The grandeur of Day
While trees bow
Gracefully in their homage
To the birth of all life.

Such is the will of Pan.

Pictures

He sent me his picture today
All virile and beautiful
Sultry, sensual sexuality
A familiar tightening below the belt
Tells me I want him.
Laid before me,
Him.
Breath in short gasps
As I memorize every line, every muscle
And as I have in my dreams 1,000 times
I unwrap him like a present
And beneath the surface
Before I take him inside
There is something
Under the skin
There is a light
In his eyes there is desire
Coexisting with a scar that will never heal
As my fingertips trace his lips
I can feel the memory of a life left behind
All for this moment in time
Here.
With me.
I massage his strong legs
Feeling the tension of climbing and re-climbing a ladder
Growing beyond pain and fear
Looking in his eyes
I am ashamed and afraid
Awed and oh so in love
And I'm trembling
While my hands continue to map his masculinity with purpose
Changed through self-awareness
Can we make love?
He sent me his picture today
All his love, made with a camera lens
Mine with a pen