Running on empty 
Just fumes in the tank,
Better stop, Fill up,
with something from bank,
the well, of inspiration, 
that never runs dry,  
So they say, but there again, 
sometimes it just does.  
So we meet in your bedroom, 
And do it all again, 
Sharing the breath of life, 
As Horus & Seth shared it, 
As Thoth & Horus shared it, 
Their feet resting on the lungs, 
The windpipe stretched up between them, 
Papyrus and lotus fronds weaving, 
A mysterious pattern, 
Around their bodies. 
The in & the out-breath, 
Mouths devouring each, 
Tongues gripped and searching, 
All our body’s parts melding together. 
The heart, the stomach,  
The sexual centre, 
Full of elixir now, 
Lingam and Yoni touching, 
Then over and in each, 
Floating, in mysterious lands, 
A plateau through the hours of darkness, 
Coming forth at daybreak, 
Refreshed & inspired, 
Well within us now.