Pagan love song (collaboration with JohnFeddeler)

My own heart, rests beyond a sun scorched horizon.
There, obsidian ramparts slice the sky and bull pine parapets boast;
impassable. I race the wind on a stolen steed and in my futility,
hope is left behind. It settles in a plume of uncertainty and dust,
waiting for an obstinate rain to wash it clean.

And maybe she (of course, she has no name, other than 'she')
comes to me in the night, bearing the words that I must write,
dragging me from sleep, exploiting me
as I cannot exploit myself, saying 'this is a poem'
displaying it in a mystical light,
admonishing me:  Behold.  Behold.

She has no proclivity towards man, nor towards woman,
her slender fingers gracefully strum the silken fibers
of our hearts, wantons of pagan art, yet Byzantine.
From my arms she calls my lover, luring him with siren song.

I track them to an illicit affair, & lay myself
between the brooding & the beauty.

We stroke her hair; we tame her wild lips.
She abdicates upon our decadence
and we write what is not meant to be written.
Say this: that love is the smoothest criminal,
and we are thieves of romance.

(Artist unknown)