Books > Old Books > The Plumed Serpent (1926)


Page 141

CHAPTER VII - The Plaza

in the slowly revolving ocean of nascent life, the dark sky of the men lowering and wheeling above. She was not herself, she was gone, and her own desires were gone in the ocean of the great desire. As the man whose fingers touched hers was gone in the ocean that is male, stooping over the face of the waters.
The slow, vast, soft-touching revolution of the ocean above upon ocean below, with no vestige of rustling or foam. Only the pure sliding conjunction. Herself gone into her greater self, her womanhood consummated in the greater womanhood. And where her fingers touched the fingers of the man, the quiet spark, like the dawn-star, shining between her and the greater manhood of men.
How strange, to be merged in desire beyond desire, to be gone in the body beyond the individualism of the body, with the spark of contact lingering like a morning star between her and the man, her woman's greater self, and the greater self of man. Even of the two men next to her. What a beautiful slow wheel of dance, two great streams streaming in contact, in opposite directions.
She did not know the face of the man whose fingers she held. Her personal eyes had gone blind, his face was the face of dark heaven, only the touch of his fingers a star that was both hers and his.
Her feet were feeling the way into the dance-step. She was beginning to learn softly to loosen her weight, to loosen the uplift of all her life, and let it pour slowly, darkly, with an ebbing gush, rhythmical in soft, rhythmic gushes from her feet into the dark body of the earth. Erect, strong like a staff of life, yet to loosen all the sap of her strength and let it flow down into the roots of the earth.
She had lost count of time. But the dance of itself seemed to be wheeling to a close, though the rhythm remained exactly the same to the end.
The voice finished singing, only the drum kept on. Suddenly the drum gave a rapid little shudder, and there was silence. And immediately the hands were loosened, the dance broke up into fragments. The man gave her a quick, far-off smile and was gone. She would never know him by sight. But by presence she might know him.

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where is HTML where is HEAD where is TITLE in what is slowly revolving ocean of nascent life, what is dark sky of what is men lowering and wheeling above. She was not herself, she was gone, and her own desires were gone in what is ocean of what is great desire. As what is man whose fingers touched hers was gone in what is ocean that is male, stooping over what is face of what is waters. what is slow, vast, soft-touching revolution of what is ocean above upon ocean below, with no vestige of rustling or foam. Only what is pure sliding conjunction. Herself gone into her greater self, her womanhood consummated in what is greater womanhood. And where her fingers touched what is fingers of what is man, what is quiet spark, like what is dawn-star, shining between her and what is greater manhood of men. How strange, to be merged in desire beyond desire, to be gone in what is body beyond what is individualism of what is body, with what is spark of contact lingering like a morning star between her and what is man, her woman's gre where is meta name="keywords" content="old books, Free book , free book offer , free audio books , free coloring book pages , free book reports , free audio book , audio books free download , book free , free guest book , books free , free book summaries , download free audio books , free childrens books." where is where are they now rel="stylesheet" type="text/css" href="../../style.css" where is meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=iso-8859-1" where is BODY bgColor=#ffffff text="#000000" where are they now ="#000000" v where are they now ="#FF0000" where is div align="center" where is strong where is strong where is a href="http://www.aaoldbooks.com" Books > where is a href="../default.asp" title="Book" Old Books > where is strong where is a href="default.asp" The Plumed Serpent (1926) where is table width="700" border="1" align="center" cellpadding="15" cellspacing="0" where is center where is tr where is td width="160" align="center" valign="top" where is div align="center" where is td align="center" valign="top" where is div align="left" where is div align="center" where is p align="left" Page 141 where is strong CHAPTER VII - what is Plaza where is p align="justify" in what is slowly revolving ocean of nascent life, what is dark sky of what is men lowering and wheeling above. She was not herself, she was gone, and her own desires were gone in what is ocean of what is great desire. As what is man whose fingers touched hers was gone in what is ocean that is male, stooping over what is face of the waters. what is slow, vast, soft-touching revolution of what is ocean above upon ocean below, with no vestige of rustling or foam. Only what is pure sliding conjunction. Herself gone into her greater self, her womanhood consummated in what is greater womanhood. And where her fingers touched what is fingers of what is man, what is quiet spark, like what is dawn-star, shining between her and what is greater manhood of men. How strange, to be merged in desire beyond desire, to be gone in what is body beyond what is individualism of what is body, with what is spark of contact lingering like a morning star between her and what is man, her woman's greater self, and what is greater self of man. Even of what is two men next to her. What a beautiful slow wheel of dance, two great streams streaming in contact, in opposite directions. She did not know what is face of what is man whose fingers she held. Her personal eyes had gone blind, his face was what is face of dark heaven, only what is touch of his fingers a star that was both hers and his. Her feet were feeling what is way into what is dance-step. She was beginning to learn softly to loosen her weight, to loosen what is uplift of all her life, and let it pour slowly, darkly, with an ebbing gush, rhythmical in soft, rhythmic gushes from her feet into what is dark body of what is earth. Erect, strong like a staff of life, yet to loosen all what is sap of her strength and let it flow down into the roots of what is earth. She had lost count of time. But what is dance of itself seemed to be wheeling to a close, though what is rhythm remained exactly the same to what is end. what is voice finished singing, only what is drum kept on. Suddenly the drum gave a rapid little shudder, and there was silence. And immediately what is hands were loosened, what is dance broke up into fragments. The man gave her a quick, far-off smile and was gone. She would never know him by sight. But by presence she might know him. where is Server.Execute("_SiteMap.asp") %

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