Mātāngī's Passion

The Beloved is dressed in a sari of red, red rose
Her skin so dark it nearly is blue.
Her strong black, curly, tumbling, thick hair streaming down from Her crown
    in a waterfall’s torrent, rushes to Her heart shaped bottom.
She has a thin waist, full wide hips, taut back
Laboring to support the weight of full, high breasts that
Rise as mountains flowing with desire, bursting through the red, red cloth
   of Her red, red sari
Draped coquettishly around Her elegant, rounded shoulders.
Her lips are full, ruby red and pursed
Eyes wide and deep, black as the moonless sky, 
Lashes emitting arrows of the God of Love,
With a gaze that is coy, luscious, alluring.
Nose thin and delicate, 
She wears a string of translucent pearls around Her neck,
Her earlobes adorned with the Sun and the Moon.
The Beloved sits holding a vina
Shows fine hands with long fingers, 
Wrists with shimmering silver bangles. 
She drinks heavily, gazing passionately,
Intoxicated by the immortal potion.
She plucks Her strings, sings a siren’s song
That excites and vibrates every cell in Her lover’s body,
And stirs the resting, hesitant universe to its next wave of bliss.

Om Hrīm Klīm Hum Matangaye Phat Svāha

Mātāngī - Kālī Temple, Shimla, HP, India