I erupt and heaven parts, calling my name. I erupt and my feet don't still, my hips unyield. I erupt and the ground trembles, asks me for a ride into wild, primal flow, mountains know. I erupt with a flash of sex, a golden hex of lays, frays of light drip through. I erupt and the birds ask my name, the worms slither untamed, snakes uncoil in vain. I erupt as the burning sun, as all is one, I erupt.
This morning, my thoughts are wrapped in the delicate embrace of dance and movement. Yesterday, I spent sacred moments in my new sanctuary—a yoga and pole dance room that now feels like a temple of transformation. The energy it bestowed upon me was nothing short of exhilarating. I sense an ancient alignment shifting within me, a profound resonance clicking into place. I feel sensual, alive with a newfound vibrancy.
Dance, in its essence, is an erotically spiritual act. Movement itself is a prayer, but dance—ah, dance—is a divine communion. The music, whether from an external source or the subtle symphony of the world around us, ignites an internal electric current. This current guides our bodies and souls into a passionate and powerful exchange. Sometimes, the most profound melodies come not from instruments but from the world’s natural rhythm—the whispering wind, the rustling leaves, the heartbeat of nature itself.
