I saw the Christian men, doing Christian things.
A martyr Larp for some, and yet others more genuine.

I told them I respected their courage, if not their faith.
This was not a lie. There is something admirable in conviction..

They prayed for me, hands on my shoulders..
To whom, and for what, I did not know, nor did I care.

But a man should know what he would die for, and then live for it.

These Christians are simple people but not completely without a point, nor without some warmth.

I’ve met worse Christians than these..
..They’ve met worse heathens than me.

--never goes away
when forgiveness is forever an option.

Intensity, passion, and conviction..
each have a volatility all their own.
In other words.. **** happens  sometimes
when two Heavy hitters become close.
If there is heartfelt value,
and enough honesty..
nothing close and good  
within the Realms of Love
is ever truly over.

You make a wonderful conduit

The most stalwart of loves
go unfulfilled;
a brilliant,
unfettered affection,
purified
by enduring heartache.

They are as
stubborn leaves in Autumn,
clinging to a branch.
As soon as the season is finished,
they shall be pruned without exemption,
yet they persist bitterly.

I can be who I will be
And I will be who I can
But never would any of those be
Any less than all I am

Even in bitterness
and deep despair,
I know I am on the doorstep of
great love.

Who, when asked to prove
the genuineness of their affection,
would draw back?
If asked to suffer for their ideals,
who would renounce them?

If I am suffering,
it is for a great cause,
it is to prove that I can live purely,
and feel purely,
unable
unwilling
to compromise
on fundamental matters
of both soul and heart.

beauty is in the heart
freedom is within the mind
and peace is found
when we unbind

from our earthly attachments

reconciling, that sparse is our time
there will come a day
where youth will pass away
convictions, less in the sense of values but crime
you'll have wished you spent your earlier years
with a nose fixed to the grind
wouldn't that have been grand
in the latter part of your life
to have no worries on the mind
no cares, but for
time time time

La sensation s'apparente à une simple présence
Incongrue et abstraite, tant sa distance
De ces souvenirs qui exigent le poids des vivants
Comme promesse qu'ensemble nous traverserons le temps

Et tend à cette conviction presque vide de sens
Que les acteurs éternels de la tendre enfance
Puissent ainsi, pas à pas, suivre nos traces dans l'ombre
Pour que ce peuple d'éther ne s'ajourne que dans la tombe

Et que tombe cette folle histoire insensée, peu à peu
Que le temps calcinera de son souffle de feu
Ranimant en nous la flamme de ces instants d'ivresse
Pour que reste derrière nous ces souvenirs délestés

Et mieux vaut de son gré engendrer la cadence
Que de subir dans la l'angoisse les désirs de délivrance
Délaissant patiemment toute envie de se réjouir
Pour que s'endorme dans la cendre ces trop lourds souvenirs

Et quand viendra finalement la sensation de dissonance,
Que la lourdeur de l'homme aspirant la transcendance
S'exténue et s'allège dans l'accord des déceptions
Pour qu'enfin vive souverain ce pays d'ombres et d'illusions.

Et que sombre dérisoirement chaque pensée, peu à peu,
Que le temps effacera d'un seul geste d'adieux
Renvoyant au néant l'âme de ces habitants célestes
Pour que ne gise sur la toile qu'une confuse fresque.