A Sermon for the Flawed

Blessed are the visions and fantasies of the morally compromised.
they manifest like a Genesis Garden.
With fruit bitten knowledge from their own meta-modernist novel.

Blessed are the incandescent
it is they who know that life is infinite... if only in increments.

Blessed are the painful lamentations, one day the world will know your poetry

Blessed are the heartbreakers, they give gravity to the pain that pulls ink to pen

Blessed be the traumatized artists, they who stand in upright in eternal defiance

in victory over their traumatizer
in victory through canvas
in victorious acrylic paint masterpieces (((a rage in refutation))).  

Blessed are the autumnal attractions,
an April Renaissance, through frost bitten winters, for those that are godly and the struggling sinners  

Blessed are the stolen hallway glances, galvanized in the explosive immersion of instant attraction...

Blessed are those who
engage
in a breathtaking taboo
surrender.
Written meticulously upon
shards of glass
from a broken moral compass.