The Siren's Call (Intro)
I see you through a watery haze, a dehydrating heat wave, beckoning me to be brave and come toward her. I feel like my mind's been sabotaged, fooled easily by a mirage that only builds up false hope, the rope-a-dope and tries to break me. I thought that I had strength of will, but I walk toward her still with that Siren song she sings emptying my mind of everything. Through her musical confusion I start to see the elaborate illusion woven of a beauty I never thought I'd live to know.
There's a soft, cottony outline bordering my vision, as in a cinematic dream. The mirage wavers, its warm haze settling as the Siren song seems to fade, though in reality, its notes have me enthralled completely. I hear no sound but that of waves, crashing gently against unseen stones, fine sea mist I know cannot be real I feel upon my skin, cool and refreshing so I must close my eyes. I let a out a sigh and open wide my vision once again. Warm haze no more, the mirage gives way to cool clarity, and in my sight a rarity settled calmly on the shore. Before I can begin my study of this wondrous being lain before me, I am capture with a smile, enraptured by the brilliant pearls she has unfurled toward me. As that smile fades to smirk, soft lips lined with a crooked quirk but still upturned as if intrigued or pleased by me, I start to see what she presents. The eyes, they hold me, through them I see the whirling passion of the sea. Crisp and clear, somewhere between a swirl of teal and aquamarine. Framed by what seems cascading down, a waterfall from crown to ground, shimmers as silk and conformed to a form soft as satin before spilling across the sand. Bare but where the waterfall flows, skin shows, alabaster in a pose of perfect repose. Purer than the whitest snows, my gaze raises from the toes to follow the lines molded in another time, an age long passed or era foolishly forgotten. A sweeping rise from calf to thighs and curve upon the hips, my fingers itch and muscles twitch at the waterfall flowing between, keeping unseen a subtle aching promise. Ever higher, glimpses caught twixt cascading streams the supple form of the goddess, I feel the heavy beating of heart within my breast as it matches the rise and fall of hers. Shadows dance across her collar as they strive to meet her shoulders, but settle within the gracious lines of her neck. With a subtle convulsion of her throat, her lips part with a soft gasp, and to my surprise I realize I've reached her. My hand gently rests upon her cheek, as ice against my fingertips, I feel her melt at my caress. But as she locks her stare with mine, white heat sears into my mind and I'm the one to steam against her skin.
The Sea (Outro)
I always believed the Siren was a splintered fragment of mythology, or a weary sailor's bleary-eyed mistaken view of a being of the sea. It never had occurred to me that in this world of reality there may actually be such a creature of sensual mystery. But as I let myself be taken, it's fairly clear I've been mistaken in my process of thought that allows me to understand the Siren as a concept, her, modern existence forged internally. Immortalized in the foggy mind's eye of the beholder, an inward spell woven of desire and the eternal yearning for passion, not, in fact, the intricate illusion adopted by the Siren herself. The beauty of the Siren is reality, her Song the liberated rhythm of emotion, and her Spell the undefended compulsion rendered through both. In the end, it is this understanding that consumes us, and so frees us.