I shall take no blame for your weakness and lust. A wine glass upon the table deep red wine within He stares at the glass, it's shadow, slave to the candle's will, weaves an erotic dance. For with their high clear song the Sirens bewitch him, as they sit there in a meadow piled high with the moldering skeletons of men, whose withered skin still hangs upon their bones. Please, stay and rest, there is no need to hurry, there is no need to be afraid. You know yourself no more than a child, so enjoy your pleasures as you find them, without doubt and concern, for I am a woman, and it is in your nature to lust for me. I bear knowledge of great importance to humanity - of what is Real, of how we are able to touch and feel. I am more noble than this, for I am a philosopher, a slave to matters of the mind, a servant to truth. Watching, captured by soft movement lulled, deceived, seduced he is thirsty, he hungers takes the rich red wine, drinks deeply the sweet taste of nature's fruit upon his tongue She turns her head deliberately, to stare, to challenge. Her hand, slender burnished arm, resonating, moves in space sending violent shadows to flee in the dark as delicate fingers take the wine she drinks deeply. The Siren and the Heatness Of Cicadas An erotic work in progress from the Sea of Doubt and Many Faces The man has endured a long lonely journey upon the restless sea of doubt and many faces mocking thoughts, he sits within this world of his own construction battered by the sea about the alluring sea of doubt and many faces drifting, calling, tormenting, near The Odyssey - Homer 'Your next encounter will be with the Sirens, who bewitch everybody who approaches them. I have no time for the weakness of the flesh. Her hand instinctively touches him, she speaks, her soft voice intrudes, and briefly overwhelms the rhythm, the cicadas. Indeed, your knowledge is complex. Time to be, to feel, to sense. Her voice is kind and gentle, soothing.