A Letter To My Imaginary Friend

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It could only be a union
with such mystic and spiritual correlations,
a passion that would be the envy
of all the Deities of Heaven and Beyond,
rivalling none less than that of
the mythical Cupid and Psyche,
and all as should never cease
our endless whispering
of charmèd incantations
as have been already imparted
and sent forth forever
between ourselves...

...until at last,
so long, long last,
the spell would thus be done!

The supernatural blend of
our innate potions
would return as an alchemic tincture
invoked betwixt and within us both,
serving only to further rejuvenate and empower
the Sanctity of Our Love.

Then, and only then,
could we finally collapse
in our heroes’ triumph,
to sink ever so slowly
into the puddle of our respite
and drift on to the luscious
coalescence and peace of our afterglow,
quietly swooning ourselves
with secret murmurs and endearing hums
as we languish in the subtle
— yet so very sumptuous —
pleasures of pompoir.

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Copyright © Ron Koster/Psymon, 1996-2010.
All Rights Reserved.

Earth: Winter Grounds
Air: Spring Breeze
Fire: Summer Heat
Water: Autumn Mist
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