Lancelot and Guinever – Florence Harison
“There’s a perfect kiss somewhere out in the dark, but a kiss ain’t enough.”
-Richard Butler, Psychadelic Furs, “Heartbreak Beat“, 1987
We don’t give credit the kisses they deserve anymore. Somehow as we have evolved, kisses have been devalued of their magic. The common gesture, now in it’s meaningless variants, are an assumption – a throwaway. We smooch or peck. We have even invented the “air-kiss” which carries no affection, just recognition.
Now there are different kisses with different purposes. But I am specifically speaking here of the romantically charged connection between partners. What moves us to engage beyond eye contact and embrace? Are we like the wolves, signifying acceptance of the other pack members, by a kiss? Are we simply following our intuitive drive to connect in the very place that words and speech and expression find their first primal outlet? Does it still carry the weight of a complicit fairy tale or is it simply the precursor to more familiar activities?
I’m not a romantic per se, but I do like the idea of a kiss being important, carrying an agreement with it. It means something. It means that you are willing to offer yourself -just as you are. To bring to this gesture all that is in your heart and mind. Somehow the alchemy of the offered kiss transmutes everything into acceptance. Acceptance of the kiss receiver just as they are. Acceptance of yourself as worthy and deserving of such love.
Before I knew a great deal about Daz, I knew I had to kiss him. It didn’t really happen until the third time we spent time together. But I knew instinctively that it needed to happen. And before I actually kissed him, before I even met him, I dreamed about it.
And I wanted to write about the pure weight of it. The deal I was striking. The genius of connection. The small spark of sweet lightning. It was a portal – a gateway to possibility of great adventure.
Please enjoy the poem below:
Last night, in the sojourn of starless sky and liquid hope
I dreamed of a kiss
My bare feet driven across velvet, verdant blades
Woven with wild violet and bergamot toward this hanging jewel
This pendant holy gem of joy and desiring
Suspended ripe just at
the corner of your mouth
Where dark angels and
easy laughter and silent words congregate
Last night, in the journey of unreal hours and libertine night
I dreamed of a kiss
My bare heart transgressing upon
wavering, wanton thoughts
Wild to possess and
devour this small, perfect particle of the soul
This gift hiding where
you curse and bless
and call dreams into being
Aching for discovery just at the corner of your mouth
Where hard wisdom and soft danger and loose words sleep
Last night, in crossing empty room and stricken shadow
I awoke from that dream
My bare mind riddling unyielding darkness, searching visions
Wishing to awaken both terror and beauty, both wound and salt,
Both disease and cure, both flame and its quenching
All that is ever created, living, dying, bleeding, singing and breathing
Where old histories and new languages and native tongue collide
Rodin, The Kiss