911. When passion’s tide begins its silent swell,

SONNET 911
By JH Sayyar
When passion’s tide begins its silent swell,
And breath is caught upon the lips of fire,
She rises like the moon in night's soft spell,
A star reborn through waves of pure desire
No clashing storm, no thunder in the skies
Can match the trembling music in her frame,
As light ignites behind her closing eyes,
And whispers pulse the echo of her name.
A bloom unfolds no mortal hand could mold,
Its nectar drawn from depths of secret seas
A truth too wild, too wondrous to be told,
Yet sung in sighs and gasps, trembling knees

In that fierce joy, no shame or silence clings:
She is the wind, the flame, the sky with wings.