There is a cosmic garden that grows between our ribs;
it is rooted to the heart of us.
Your love, it breaks my chest
like wild flowers blooming ablaze in springtime,
wrapping around my horned collar bones.
It is the type of love that flowers endlessly.
This love, it reaps my petals and shrines all that is good
to gather love’s ancient children for worship.
You remind me of past lives;
of untouched lands,
of a truth written sky.
I know you.
You have been that soul
that has followed mine
for centuries.
It has always been you.

I was always meant
to lose all faith in
“religion.”
It hurts a simple kind
of freedom in me that you’ve finally introduced.
But if I were to be any religion,
it would be you.
Pure love.
-Arizona