The Scented Garden

28 With sodomy, too, no children come, to cloud one’s love with cares rivals to my wife. Nothing can intervene between my boy and me but the slow foot of change, for sodomites are mortal ; but that im- mortal longing in them which is À±¹´µÁÇÃĵ¯Ç—That twins them with the Lord of Resurrection ; and even as I plunge my member in the sarcophagus, the flesh-eater, the podex of my lover, and with- draw it, its strength renewed as the eagle’s, so do I know that when the Eater of all flesh devours me altogether, I shall arise in my strength, through the blessed resurrection of our Lord Jesus, the lover of John the beautiful, into a world where erectio pe- nis shall be the rule and not the exception. Where, please God, we shall all be Sapphists and Sodo- mites, joined each to each in one incredible spinth- ria, with the extreme orgasm (which is the Holy Ghost) abiding upon us and within us for ever and ever. Shall I find you there, my lost darling ? As I pass from the swoon of death to feel the fresh wind of Heaven blowing on my cheek, shall I find you first to meet me in those Elysian glades ? “ In what etherial dances ? By what eternal streams ? ” shall I find you, sweet acolyte of Salmacis or of Terpsichore, of Bacchus or Sabrina ? Will it be you on yonder bank of yellow moss by the sunspangled rivulet that tumbles noisily from the throne of God ? Will it be you with your fine golden hair like spiders’ webs in the sun, changed to an aureole, and your seductive face still as ever the incarna- tion of one single never-ending scarlet kiss ? Will yours be the long pale hands to mould my body to your liking ; and yours the faithful, the unfailing member that never said me nay ?