John didn’t know anything of Tantra before he met Lovesong. She was a gift from the universe. Serendipity. In the pub an energy was on the air. With a hand held still on her thigh they connected.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked with a curious smile. He didn’t know what the question meant. Their eyes held contact.; many people are uncomfortable with that degree focusing. Energy flowed between the hand and the leg, and Love-Song started moving towards a trance; her ego started surrendering and she started to become the Tantric Goddess hidden inside.
In Tantra, there are two paths you can go by. The methods can be used for good or bad. Some choose to use what they learn through Tantra to manipulate others, in a similar fashion to hypnotism, taking advantage of more naïve people and using them for sex. This is the left hand path. The virtuous right hand path is the alternative.
Before John and Love-song met, there were some lines about connecting.
“Do you know what you’re doing?” she asked with a curious smile. He didn’t know what the question meant. Their eyes held contact.; many people are uncomfortable with that degree focusing. Energy flowed between the hand and the leg, and Love-
In Tantra, there are two paths you can go by. The methods can be used for good or bad. Some choose to use what they learn through Tantra to manipulate others, in a similar fashion to hypnotism, taking advantage of more naïve people and using them for sex. This is the left hand path. The virtuous right hand path is the alternative.
Before John and Love-
Breathing.
Breathing all the while,
But choosing now a different path,
Wrong door, or chair, or wedding aisle,
You step outside our circle for the while.
Year on year by fields of weather-beaten maize,
Or corridors of academic omegas and pi,
On the limit of a thoughtless sideways gaze,
Your image unbeknown might grace the eye.
Or sleeping through the men of cloth,
Requesting forty schoolboys cough,
Stealing, feeding, selling, paying,
Tequila’s, sex and weeks in Spain,
Close to death and giving birth,
Or dreaming of when, lance to hand,
A Galahad will prove his worth,
Or fearing the accusing tone
As partners in a frothing bile,
Kill off the dream of closing down
The sale of all your self,
For all the while.
But breathing all the while.
Breathe.
Exist.
Breathe out.
Breathing all the while,
But choosing now a different path,
Wrong door, or chair, or wedding aisle,
You step outside our circle for the while.
Year on year by fields of weather-
On the limit of a thoughtless sideways gaze,
Your image unbeknown might grace the eye.
Or sleeping through the men of cloth,
Requesting forty schoolboys cough,
Stealing, feeding, selling, paying,
Tequila’s, sex and weeks in Spain,
Close to death and giving birth,
Or dreaming of when, lance to hand,
A Galahad will prove his worth,
Or fearing the accusing tone
As partners in a frothing bile,
Kill off the dream of closing down
The sale of all your self,
For all the while.
But breathing all the while.
Breathe.
Exist.
Breathe out.