When heartbeats have the thunder of tribal drums,
The quest of the primal gratification has begun.
The animal has come forth and out,
Not with a whimper, but with a roaring shout!
Then the fallow body feels the need,
To sate it's hunger and feed.
When the docile host becomes passion's beast,
It roars it's intent to break free and feast.
Flesh screams for stimulation,
Needing and questing for gratification.
This is the time when abstinence loses the fight,
To desire and lust, which rules the night.
Heart to heart, flesh to flesh,
Where heat and passion mesh.
A plunge into Love's Grotto,
Fulfills the primal need to let go.