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Path Humble Jul 2023
Empyrean Heaven (there is no promised land)



there is no promised land)

the promise is where you stand
at this exact moment, where you
stick the landing every morn best,
best you can, assess the window’s
first delivery of the status of where
you are, whom you are, bent or *****,
empty or full, impoverished or worse,
sated, foolish or brave, (dis) believing
the top of world is planted beneath your
feet; but above, at this the fiery places of

Empyrean Heaven.

Empyrean Heaven, nearest to me, thy there~thee
will find, beyond the heaven of the air and the
heaven of the stars, no land, the incorporeal
existence, carefree, know this you-human,
an unpromised state is the causal residue,
of actions between human to human,
not thy god, irony delicious, earn it
with every thought, instinct, act
deserving of this, this
“unpromised place”


G.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There was, declared Saint Basil, a certain condition, older than the birth of the world and proper to the supramundane powers, one beyond time, everlasting, without beginning or end. In it the Creator and Producer of all things perfect the works of His art, a spriritual light befitting the blessedness of those who love the Lord asks of you~human.


———————
Jul 3 7:59am
patty m  

so deep this beautiful confessionary write. Yes, as age gathers its flock to the fold, the black sheep stays a step or two behind. Mulling over a manifold of days, moments hours. The good the bad, the triumphs the failures. The times given in to sin, the cries for forgiveness. Behold the many times he lifted us up and answered our prayers. Faith is healing, and your words humble and sweet, speak volumes.
Senor Negativo Aug 2012
I'm not a hopeless dream,
I cannot block my thoughts of you.
I can't just let you be.

"I'm as lucky as most lovers."

I cannot turn my back on you.
I never thought you would
give to me, such spriritual ecstasy.
The other precision lovers,
seldom do.

"I only know that I am worse
when you are not around."

Thin like philanthropists,
Fragrant summer blooms.

Let
    go
       slowly...

This flaming stem
    Is our house.

Stay on this side of the line.
I own this place.

Don't wait to unite.

I know what to do, forevermore.
I finally found a love worth fighting for,
Let me rescue you from your sea of tears.

"Forget your fears."

There is no shame in making me stay...

Don't wait to unite!
Satsih Verma Nov 2017
It bewilders me, when
I follow you. Why the savaged
retribution starts for a
separate mouth?

I may become little
demanding, sending you a
death watch for tender memories.
Why did we meet for different truths,
to fork out, not pardoned
by anchorage of our spriritual pursuits?

At early dawn, a sad
cuckoo gives a long, lingering call;
desperately evoking the
soft bleeds of beautiful past.

Your profile was very
sharp, aquiline instinct, to
smell a lover.

October is here. Intuition
develops a sixth sense.
You don't want to leave the nest.

— The End —