Passion

Bisexuality is about passion that is fueled by sexuality but flows into the spiritual.  If your relationship is just based on sex its roots are so shallow that it will wilt and die with the first sign of adversity.

When a man’s passion is truly focused on his beloved instead of his own self-gratification, he leaves behind the fields of infatuation and enters into the gardens of passion. A man’s passion for his lover transcends beyond the drive to know his lover and enters into the desires “to be” with him/her. As they dig deeper and deeper into each other’s soul, they eventually come to the heart of the inner soul, the place where passion evolves and where all sensations become more wild and free. They begin to experience those treasured moments where their spirit-filled hearts glow and resonate together while their bodies celebrate the beauty and power of sexuality. A bisexual man can offer a deeper, more compassionate form of love based on emotional richness and gentleness of spirit.

To understand the meaning of passion, I took a mental journey back through the stages of my relationship with my Beloved. During our courtship, I experienced the wonderful stage of physical attraction, the desire to smell, taste, see, hear, and feel all that she had to offer. The touch of hands and tongues was so erotic and sensuous that it sent urgent desire into all the cells of my body. It made me feel truly and completely alive.

The Scent of the Rose

You are the scent of the rose, the musk of the lioness in heat,

The delicacies of love mixed with the pure power of drive and death.

You urge me on to fulfill the instinctual lusts and needs of my body;

Your fresh fragrance lures my soul to the sweet smell of your breath.

You are the beauty of the butterfly as it hovers, dances and flits,

 Calling its lover to come to the sweet fragrant flowers of life.

Your face, your body, fulfill all of my body and soul longings,

Peeling off pain and fear with the sweet soft touch of your knife.

The sound of your voice is the sound of the songbird on the wind,

Calling its mate to join the sensuous dance of the first song of spring.

Your moans and sighs urge me on to taking more and more of you,

Into the sound of the song that only lovers know how to sing.

You are the sweet taste of the nectar of the sun ripened peach;

Your juices mix with mine and flow from my tongue to my chin.

The flavour of your lips plunges my tongue into the spices of fire;

The hot taste of the chase mocks my mind’s foolish burden of sin.

Your breasts rise to my lips, your hips bend to my tender touch.

Your soft hands excite the sensuous pleasures of my frolicking flesh;

Your thighs embrace my hips; your womb welcomes my passion,

Making my skin stir and leap to your hand’s soft, sweet caress.

You are the sweet sensation of spring rain on dry thirsty land;

You are the rich deep soil that lovingly yields to the persistent plough.

Every nerve tingles with the promise of the newness of life,

Making my body long for completion in the all-consuming now.