He takes on the mountains like a professional. My chest gets heavy and the room goes dark as he takes his time to learn the winding roads. Inside every cave and through every tunnel – there’s no end that is left unexplored.
In rainy weather, he attacks the terrain slowly and with experience. Each stroke is masterful yet unplanned. He enthusiastically slips, slides, and sleds while the glaciers shift.
There’s a fire in his eyes that melts me into submission. Could he be Xango, Obatala, or Bes? Is he Posiedon or possibly Zeus? He has command of my sea and knowledge of my body. My king is strong and inspires my creativity. He has many names and many faces; he is my muse.