the tempest

She searches for the wild
This tempest that longs to dance
Wish counsel unheeded
Futile
Words flung to the abyss
Yet sweeter to the sight
Than the burning of frankincense
Soft words
The soothing ointment she seeks
A place of refuge
From defilement contracted in life
Her loins the vessels of seduction
Shrouded
In a cloak of silk
Which captivates and tantalizes
Her nectar both wounds and heals
This leaves one yearning
For the physician of souls