The divines
Gave us the gift
Of happiness
And now you shall
Be happy too.

Ready your pipes
And light your torches,
The blessed flower
Shall bestow upon
The thy virtue
Of serenity.

Mother God planted the seed of joy in me but I am still at war with what eternity entails,
sugar peaches kissed in sunless shades,
the fruits of heavens melt evermore,
cosmic outburst at the limit of human perception,
come, steal my fashion, besiege my immortality.

You're divine for my mind. A touch that I miss, I see myself wishing for a kiss. You're a delicacy, one that has set me free and locked me in. You've locked me in a state of pure bliss.

By now I know you're hungry
for your god,
and not the painted porcelain face
hanging on the cross
above your doorframe.

You want more now that you're
struggling,
a voice that you have conjured
in the mind you know
he gave you,

an image blended from
your idols,
arms you once learned love in,
eyes you never from which
could part.

But that's the best you'll get,
and a shame
no one told you sooner.
An idea of faith or
more like
a dream of salvation.

Starved.

a dust of the moon wipes my face and my crystal edges,
hiding from the evil eye of the world,
it was a spell without a clue,
with the shadow in the thought the death angels called,
a twilight under the eyes of the holy ghost,
the death of the long-time world,
under my eyes of cold shadows,
red arrows and dry shadows.

God
In her early days
Wandered
And squandered
her time doing nothing but reading
Going though the classics and trying to form a personal style
But as her professor mentioned one day, and which she jotted on the margins of her text,
It’s easy to be derivative

God feared nothing more
than being derivative
She wanted to be her own voice
And to do her own thing
And to avoid sounding like all the others
While she loved their work and poured over it, highlighting and marking her dog eared copies,
She wanted to be her own thing
Her own presence
Something new

And so stopped reading
And just walked into to the wilderness looking
And waiting
For inspiration to strike
To write a new thing

She just needed to start at the beginning
The rest would come