Sophia

I am the saint and the prostitute.

The primordial being, an enigma beyond your exoteric understanding, Ennoia.

The carnal spark you see in the eyes of your lover, as your bodies lie entwined, lost in lust and sweaty with the sheen of passion.

I am sacred and profane.

The chaste prostitute with many lovers, who spreads her legs to all but satisfies none.

For my promises are many but my favours are few.

And the haughty I transform into fools, the rich into paupers, philosophers into dolts and the deceived into loquacious deceivers.

I am the heat that floods your loins, the rush of blood thundering in your ears, the dry brittle taste of lust in your mouth.

I am the moist warmth you so eagerly thrust your sweet cock into, inviting darkness, wet with desire.

I am the turgid lance of flame piercing your rarefied consciousness, sending you to ecstatic heights while grounding you to lover and self.

I am the mother and the mistress, sinner and saint.

The fruit of your loins, blessed little being, cherubic and perfect.

The seed of your pain, spawned because you resisted not my siren call.

I am the master and the slave.

The face in the mirror that holds your gaze, the self that inwardly blazes.

Carnal and chaste.

I am Sophia.