Lanyth: Standing in the Darkness

 Have you ever stood in the darkness, alone, waiting for the touch of a lover? Have you felt the thrill as he pressed his lips upon your own? Have you felt the flood of passion rushing through your veins at that first meeting and parting?

I stand alone in my bedroom, waiting for his touch. I know he is coming to me; but how shall I meet him? Shall I be all white like a bride or all red with love? In my heart, there beats a fierce fire that will consume me unless satisfied. His embrace has been long awaited — too long anticipated. I am burning up within and would have his caresses now!

And yet, my heart beats in silence, awaiting the only one I know could ever love me. I sigh for the caress of his fingers and his lips’ pressure. Oh, let me feel them on my own!

How cold is this night! How lonely! And yet, what is loneliness? That I may not die of it, I must think of others. Thousands upon thousands suffer more than I at present can imagine. They mourn — they weep — they wail aloud in their agony. The bitterness of their hearts is greater even than my own. Ah, if I could only help one, why might my sorrows be less — but my joys be great.

I sigh again. My head drops slowly back against the wall — my eyes close with a heavy feeling. It is approaching midnight — and I wait. I am impatient. Yet I cannot move.

I peeled myself from the wall like a hand removing a sheet of wallpaper, groaning as I wandered to my bed. I strip off all my clothes, wishing to be free of their imprisonment and for my body to be nude, beautiful, and desired again. I throw myself upon the mattress, springing into ecstasy. As the first wave of pleasure rushed over me, I noticed a light tapping at my door.

"Who is there?" I asked, half rising from my pillow.

There was no answer. Again, I called out, "Who is there? Come in!"

The sound grew louder, yet still faintly so that I could not be sure that it came from within the room. At length, opening my door cautiously, I saw before me a young woman, a beautiful bard, one I knew her sweet taste and soft lips. I smiled at her presence, my body only wrapped in a sheet, my lower lip trapped between my teeth as I waited in anticipation of her words. She entered softly — she closed the door behind her.

She approached my bed. Her hands fell upon my bosom, then traced down my shoulders. I trembled as her arms encircled my waist — and then again when she placed her cheek upon my own, pulling open her shirt and pressing her nakedness against mine.

We remained thus for moments until I felt her lips upon my own — her tongue slipping into my mouth. I sighed as I caught its caress — trembling with an excitement I had never known. I felt that we both were burning up — that our passions must burst forth at any moment. I rolled over on my face. With a quick movement, she threw herself upon me.

I could not restrain my cries of rapture — nor did I try. Her clothes flew off her magnificent body, lost to the night, as our lips could not devour enough of each other - not for this night, and never for a lifetime.

At length, exhausted by the intensity of the passion, we found ourselves lying side by side upon my pillow, looking into each other's eyes.

"It is midnight," she said, "and we have made the night eternal."

"For me," I replied, "it is a night of eternity. But tell me of yourself — what have you suffered tonight? — your grief — your pain?"

"I am lonely — oh, so lonely!" She wrapped a leg around mine, drawing me closer. "My mate grows far from me, and I seek your arms and passions to replace something I fear I have lost forever."

I clasped her close — stroking the hair from her brow. "You need not grieve for that which cannot be — but you should not seek to replace it with another passion. You should cherish the memory of that which is gone — and pray that it may return to you in time. For me, however, there is no such hope. Nothing is left of the love that once burned within me — save for the memory of it, and that is all I desire."

As she spoke, I gazed upon her countenance in silence. Then I rose from my pillow and walked over to the window. Through its lattice, I could see the faint gleam of the moon in the heavens. As I looked upward, I shivered, shuddering at the thought of its coldness and that I lay beneath it without protection.

"What is it?" asked the bard of my thoughts.

"Nothing — I was thinking of the weather, the wind, and the moon."

"Ah, yes, the moon," she murmured as she wrapped us both in a warm blanket, our nude bodies pressed together tightly. "I have heard of her from afar — of the power within her. She is the mistress of all things beautiful — and her light is ineffable. I have read of her rays that can pass through diamond and steel and pierce the most solid substances. All shadows flee before her beauty — her benign smile repels all evil. There is none like her in heaven or on earth.

"But what of her face?" she continued, "have you seen it? Have you looked at her features? No, you have not — for few men have. She is veiled from those about her — and only when she touches the world of man does she reveal her true self. Some say that her face is the reflection of the sun — and that her eyes are stars. But I have heard that the angels tremble at her approach, and that her hair is the glory of the world, and that her voice is music, and that her soul is all love, and that her form is that of the human form, but that it is so changed that we may not recognize it when we behold it.

"But these things are beyond the comprehension of mortal mind — and yet we know that the moon is not always the moon-she changes her shape and beauty according to the phases of her moods. There are times when the heavens wear a frown — and she is pale and wan — and then men quake before her, knowing she is clothed in wrath. And then, again, there are days when the skies are dark and gloomy, the winds rage furiously, and the rain falls incessantly. Thunder rolls upon the hills, lightning flashes in the sky, the waters rise and fall, and the trees are rent with discordant screams. Then the heavens are alight with her glory, and she is garbed in blue and silver, and all nature seems to rejoice, and then we look upon her face and are enraptured by her loveliness.

I nuzzled her cheek. "Thus, I have heard that the moon is not always the same and that no two nights are alike."

She kissed me and pulled me back into our endless lovemaking on my bed.

"Nor are two lovers."