from our shores
we stake out our boundaries
at various distances for safety

outside of them
we are entrusted to traverse
quietly
with humility
with delicacy

because,
when we are lovingly let
to draw nearer -

we are allowed to discover
the light and life that many of us must leave
buried
amongst brush and boulders or
beneath the sand

quietly hidden from
the ravenous wandering souls
staring on
tempestuous howling storms
unconsciously devouring
what we haven't tucked away for safe keeping

& with such great gratitude
to have that arterial vein
willingly
with trust
opened for you to climb in
so you can be let to listen
to hear
to see
  to know
the most earnest vibrations
intricate intimacies
  the warm heaving and sighing
the most sacred temple
   the most venerable *****
   a ventricular vestibule
   intimating the harshest subtleties
& the most visceral visions

I sit
Oh Lord in wonder
Within Your temple pine
And as I sit
In awe of it
I see Your great design

The slate grey clouds
Form arch and roof
The pillars
Rugged trees
The courtyard
Cobbled with grass
And leaves

Learning from inside-out, crouched, how do I tie this double-knot?
Acoustic ambience bouncing around in the space between my ears
Creating songs the shape of you,
sea of sadness.
Melancholic temple,
where you have gone to worship all your life,
is burning to the ground in great, blundering flames.
Was it you
who nearly drowned
last June?
Was it you
who never
ever
let them
forget?

His Dark Angel smiled;
cold lips warmed by passion.
The trance compelling.
Desire for the flesh burned
in immortal rage.

The snow fell.

His Golden Muse lay slain;
warm blood cooled by liberation.
The death an afterthought.
Indifference for life
in mortal depression.

The snow fell. The winds rose.

A spirit retreated to the
only embrace that remained.
The Angel stirred in the shadows.
A knife fell.
Taking the bloodied hand
he clasped it tightly in his.

The snow fell. The winds rose. The tears froze.

The pages of his life blood
lay scattered across the snow.
Like a sacrificial alter
the volumes were placed.
The temple now erected.
Each author a contributing artist.
The funeral pyre now complete.

The snow fell. The winds rose. The tears froze. The flames danced.

The fire scratched violently at the frosted air;
each enamelled finger reaching out in horror.
Ashes twirled, battling the soft white flakes;
angels and demons seeking one final act of sovereignty.
He glared through the flames, motioning to step forward.
He firmly gripped the stained hand, holding it ever nearer the
flame that writhed in its own tormented agony.
There was scream that emanated like a banshee, yet ended in the flames…

The snow fell. The winds rose. The tears froze. The flames danced. The end marked.

Over time you will learn
Your body is a temple
It is not a house of cards
You cannot set it on fire
You cannot push it over
You cannot destroy it
You must cherish your body
And all of it's imperfections
Because to someone else
Everything you hate about yourself
They are in love with
Your body is a home
You don't destroy your home
You decorate it
Start doing that now.

Baucis and Philemon,
Elderly souls, never empty of
Love,
Opened their doors for two strangers,
Whom
Unbeknownst to them, originated from
Above.
Zues and Hermes, cloaked in the robes of the
Poor,
Were turned away from every household,
Until they rapped on Baucis and Philemon's
Door.
"Come in, come in, shed your cloaks, and warm your hands,
Baucis,
Go!
Use our last loaves, grab the roast, the ham!"

Never mind their
Poverty

Never mind their
Nearly empty
Pantry and Cupboards

Baucis and Philemon possessed the rarest trait,
One the God's most
Coveted.
And while the two strangers ate their foods, and consumed their
Wine,
Baucis noted their cups never lowered beneathe the
Brim Line.

"God's... Divine!"
Cried the two elderly
Lovers.
"Follow us up the hill, Baucis, Philemon,
Do not look back as you climb,
Only to each other."

The two followed the Gods, still cloaked in the garb of strangers,
Never looking back at their village
Below.
Until, reaching the top, and turning back, their eyes didn't fall back upon their
Home.

Zues had called forth a flood, sent to destroy the once ungrateful
Village,
But where Baucis and Philemons cottage once lay,
A beautiful temple had risen from the filthy
Sullage.

Their wish to take care of the temple was swiftly
Granted,
As was their second wish, one that was almost
Demanded.


"I must die, as soon as my love does, I can't ever be without her."


The rest of their lives were spent glorifying the Gods for their kindness and love,
And when the time came for them to take their last
Breath,
Squeezed hands and warm souls crossed the River Styx,
And their broken and withered bodies were
Left.

The wrinkles on their
Skin,
Were made brown, and beautiful
Again
As their flesh turned to bark, and their hair to
Leaves,
The two elderly lovers, became intertwining
Trees.