I am the flower of untouched perceptibility, the unique breed nobody could ever find in any imposing gardens. Do not chase to haunt me and the richness of my petals’ sap if you are not a holy breed of spirit as I might wither and get my seeds of knowledge scratched in your unjust volition. I am the pearl, the mermaid chain of blushing moon tides.

my grandmother and i are on the couch.

when i ask about the soft edges in everyone's voice, she tells me,
"it's because these few days are holy."
and i remember my aunt this morning
saying something about how people must meditate
on their savior,
and think about their god.

i look at her now,
at the table with two other people,
their fingers curled in front of them,
their heads bowed,
and words quietly escaping their lips
like prayers they have memorized from the cards in their hands.
there are no saviors to them,
just kings and queens
that lead them into the night.
(but meditation has always been better done late, i guess.)

the dim light hangs above my aunt and her friends like
a numb pain that has settled
in a throat that has been suffocating for centuries
called 'architectural beauty,'
called 'site of sacred things,'
called a photography background for tourists.

the coins bounce across the table
and ring like bells
and my aunt's arms stretch
and rake the thirty silver pieces
into her chest,
thanking luck or fortune
or her god
for a prayer answered,
her friends cursing luck or fortune
or their god
as they gather another set of cards
into their curled fingers.

the words come out in a stream of kings and queens
and numbers.
their mouth spill their heart on the table,
right there - a murmured incantation
of awe
or devotion

or just
silver.

-j.g.

Does the pious man live the holy life
By avoiding demons
Or by remaining righteous in their presence?

The middle of a pool of salt-
A Eucharist is said to float.
God's dignity created flesh,
A sacrifice the Pope could bless
If he could only find the shoes
To wade inside the choking blue
To pluck the body from the waves;
A child the doves were slow to raise.

Love, essence of life.
Kind, patient and innocent.
Quest for a pure heart.

Siiting in a throne
A holy maiden worthy of its title:
Queen in battle
Majesty, and glory with a crown

Been in sorrow
Gone through tribulation
But there's tomorrow
Where happiness is a seedling
She's with us, her hand, lending

Oh mighty woman
A paragon in virtue
Thy enemies sue you
But to no compare they'd be thrown

A mother of all nation
A sister of all dear children
Oh God in Heaven
Deemed you worthy, indeed it happen: now you're

A Queen upon a throne

In a bizarre place
The moment I looked to my right
I slowly get to my pace
But before, I took a gaze

I think I saw an angel...
Taking a second glance,
I notice closed-folded wings
Well now I'm sure,
He's my guardian angel

One word:
Purity. To describe him
That look in His eye,
Chilling my nerves
Fulling the sight
Oh, eye-to-eye

Wavy, curly hair
Brown and blonde fair
With length up to chin
Such gracious Mr. 'Him'

Small lips
Bright scene
Ambience light
Feelings aright

Pointed nose
Moreno skin
Like those, calm,
Tanned in the seashore

Glowing, aura around him

A mesmerizing sight
His eyes, pure, innocent light
Oh Love, how I love you
Singnifying Almighty's presence

Worn, fine-linen robes
I'd like to touch, to feel
His warmth, emanating
From his to me
I'd like to---

Smiles, I hugged him(!)
I just did it(!), out of love, joy
It seems fast, fast yet slow
His expression, quite surprised, yet not
But his eyes, that concern he has
I see= compassion (love)

Oh how I wish to be just like that,
Forever, with God, Jesus
Meanwhile, a hope remains,
"Someday"

I came to my retreat,
I noticed a single folded li'l paper
He held, opened
In mine's interpretation, it reads,

(promises he'll keep,)
No matter what,
I'll send to proclaim thy message
Whenever one need thee

(and many more, I left unnoticed )
~

Then he made me feel,
I have to go somewhere

Where?
God knows
How?
God knows

Then in a distance
I saw a woman approaching
So beautiful,
Of course, hey, she's my mother

She led me
God, and angels,
They lead me

I dreamed of this, and now I dreamt it

( in the end, what matters to me is that even once, I know God is with me. And love follows wherever I go)

Even as holy books do not make you holy,
keeping the law do not make you moral.
But sin shows itself most sinful
making mass murders and most ****** carnage holy.
And lawlessness hides behind the law
sulking and pouting in the White House.