Creatures of love will first hover over the plains of lust where there are fires that have engulfed every grain and every reed. Even the swans that glide along the riverbank have wings that turn from a stark white to the golden blaze which lust represents on its own. We are aflame when young. Our own wings bloom outward, much like those swans that are present near every riverbank.
Next to the banks of every blueish river or meager stream where we are swans, we experience the joys of sexuality. We are explorers, and we showcase extremities that are displayed from our torso and our groin.
Limbs that are used to fold around our partner in the act of love, and each of our hands, caress the shoulders of a lover who could be in pain during the event. Caresses become grasps and pulls. Then there are the shoves, and large hands meeting a frail and thin throat. A woman’s chin receives many kisses.
When they come together, Lascivia plays the role of fallen angel from some deserted chamber in heaven, while Gabriel is his namesake, the angel of all angels. He burns his stare into the flesh that is at her abdomen.
A quick undressing of her body reveals all the sculptures in the great city of Athens, or in the Egyptian city of Alexandria; an ocean of white runs upon the sheets beneath it. Like currents or streams with that absence of color, Gabriel drinks it in, as if he is an infant receiving a breast for milk.
Peaks of twin pyramids that have the sheen of the moon’s coating of silver as the night blossoms over the desert sands, greet him. Apart from the body, where this miserable or joyous white is covered, there is Lascivia’s face, which has now adopted a hue of gold. She gleams, as if not yielding to the fire that is before her and allowing it to warm herself instead. She lets the fires come into her, using the individual tendrils for her consumption.