I have been blessed by the touch. Charge me up Jah man, black man, African King. My spirit rises in your presence, floating like a sweet waft of cinnamon incense over an infinite plain with no end and no beginning. I see you – the light of your copper sun eyes – from upon my goddess throne. I know you – the rhythm of divinity drumming circles around me. Jah man, black man, African King. Feel my touch. Caressing circles around your bald head. A ticklish trace around the contours of your lips, the curve of your brow. A wet bite, tugging at your ear lobe. Holding your neck with ten feathered fingers – a defenseless you under my allure, not threatened – drawing down the excitement as I draw out the tension from the tip of you spine to the crest of your backside. Jah man, black man, African King. Send your touch through the currents of the universe. A warm hug from the sun, peeping through the clouds on a chilly overcast day. The giving hand of oshun, spreading her love in honour of her purpose. Bless me Mama Africa, the touch of your divine energies. Touch and be touched, my infinite love.