I’m walking on my failure
Like the water in the sea
Out there I see my Sailor
He is calling out to me
All I need is meager trust
That His grace won’t let me sink
On His boat is written Just
No water removes that ink

Selmhem Naise

What would you do  
if you knew there was a light source   whose
very nature  could illuminate the back
sides of molecules and atoms;  as if
the source did not come from its point of origin
but instead--  permeated all-throughout  
    from all sides at once..  in all directions--
    at the same time;  simultaneously..

    yet also perpetually

..and if so-- where could one hide  from the
knowing-ability  of light of this nature
that chooses to have "known-ability".

What if
by chance,  in life here on earth
we are given the dignity to choose,  through
autonomy.. the freedom to hide--
the power to place, even if through illusion;
obstacle,
 
and create shadow from a light, that knows no shadow.

What if,  the nature of love  that is also light
chooses  through muse, as one of its loving ways,
to pierce through obstacle  created
by autonomy's oftentimes, need to hide-

What if.

Wouldn't that then be an act of kindness..
and also a beautiful act of honor  towards autonomy
to not force its way in through power
but instead.. coax,  through heart-persuasion?

..And that much more a gift  muse would be
if one were to know  that at the end  of life
would be the complete and full removal  of obstacle
      in order  to know  
   and be fully known?

Without loving acts such as muse
what would be "knowable"  within us
if obstacle were never penetrated,  

   here
in the land of the living?


What if.

I swallow your words
And begin to mellow out.
Turbulence in my bloodstream,
Yet static numbness all throughout.

An accent laced with malice,
By a tongue that knew no sympathy.
You graced me with the fortunes
Of love's complex simplicities.

Love baffles.
Love hurts.
Trivial hearts.

Like the Gentile woman said
even dogs get a treat
I just want to feel a scrap
of what you felt

Sink my teeth
into some meat

When I feel tired
When I feel old
When I lose hope

The words come
They fly into
the atmosphere above

They carry away
what I feel today
and drift into your grace

Away from my troubled face
into your grace

Go there where you wanted to be,
Where your heart is,
Where you can find your happiness,
Where your soul matters,
Where you can feel free…

Go there where the sun can make you feel good
About your existence,
When the moon plays her sorrows with the finest grace,
Where the gifted are loved and not hated,
Where all promises won’t hurt.

Go there, where you deserve,
Go there, where you can handle all thing well,
Go there, where your soul matters!

PaulSN

She moved towards me
with an  unparalleled
Grace;
and in doing so,
poured Living water  over
an ancient, Jezebelian wound--
  still bleeding;
  cut-- deeply

across  my battle-scarred chest.

And,
in a timeless,  ancient world;
the healing she brought  to me
b e c a m e
a healing  for all mankind--
  in,
and through
the healing of woman-kind;

as she   b r e a t h e d   out to me
   a kiss,
along the edge of
a faint scar-line;

the one  that
just above my hip--
gave hint..

of a missing rib.

Remember her, old friend?
She was...hideous,
You think she was ugly,
oh no, far from it.

She was the fairest,
Her lavishing sable hair,
Her viridian eyes,
Her glamorous smile,

Her soft-hued skin,
Her delicately slender body,
Her dazzling manners,
Her ever so warm demeanor,

Her moves,
Fluid, graceful, focused,
Capturing the essence of the music,
with her mesmerizing artistry.

She was indeed perfect,
Unique, as no one could be as elegant,
Charming, for no one, was as lovely.
Beguile...as no one was as rotten.

What she was, my old friend,
Was an empty vessel,
the soul of which had perished,
mortified by its actions.

For all she ever wanted was approval,
so what she did was put on a mask,
losing herself in the process,
becoming a ghost of her formal self.