#magnum
Antipathy of God’s magnum opera: \
An anomaly, \
It is preternatural, \
& it is entropy. \
As Children of The Most High God, Jah, \
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love, \
We must rise above, we must transcend \
Hate, Malice, & attrition. \
The Spirit is beckoning you, \
Embrace amour & revere the one who is love: \
8 “Who ever does not love has not come to know God, because \
God is love.” —1st John 4: 8 (NWTSE) \
(—Se’ lah)
10-04-2025
Oct 4, 2025
Oct 4, 2025 at 12:30 PM UTC
Please tell me all your secrets,
I’ll listen so very intensely,
I know I could never beat this;
intrigue consumes me so immensely.
Tell me all your little stories
from your birth until today,
I swear there’s so much there for me,
not one is boring regardless of what you say.
I’m an aspiring archeologist
wishing to discover your bones
I’ll take detailed notes in a list,
from the gravel to the stones.
I’ll dig as deep as you permit,
carefully brushing away the dust,
gently admiring bit by bit,
proving I’m someone you can trust.
Please tell me all the thoughts in your head,
the ones before you sleep and while awake.
A novel that’s new each time I’ve read,
each detail I’ll comb and rake.
Speak every word that comes to mind,
I crave to step inside your brain,
I know there’s hidden corners for me to find,
and so much understanding left to gain.
I’m an aspiring architect
wishing to build you to the sky,
every support beam I’ll personally inspect,
protecting any damage low or high.
I’ll construct only to your designs
ensuring you’ll never break and never bust,
producing the math and drawing the lines,
to prove you’ll be the only thing to never rust.
Please tell me all your deepest fears
so I can prepare myself to stand toe to toe,
the ones that cause sleepless nights and tears,
those are my one and only foe.
Tell me about the world you see,
how it looks through your bright eyes,
so I can express it creatively,
and paint you the perfect skies.
I’m an aspiring starving artist
wishing to illustrate every aspect of you,
you can criticize and say I’m blinded by the mist,
but every poem and portrait will be true.
There’s no explaining this pure bliss,
but I’ll make up new words and colours if I must,
as you’re the only thing that I ever miss,
proving this is love not just lust.
Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 2:50 AM UTC
I have already written my magnum opus
Attempts to better it, seem to be hopeless
As I struggle to create an anthology
Perhaps it comes down to Psychology
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 5:44 PM UTC
You weave your stories like the night,
stringing the moon with the stars;
the finest of pristine pearls,
threaded by twilight.
Weaving the finest Varanasi silk
with life as your celestial loom;
laying down gold- and silver-threaded brocade,
dormant gardens burst in bloom.
Your pen is the philosopher’s stone
turning lead hearts into gold;
manipulating structure in stunning stanzas,
inscribing on hearts in italics and bold.
Nodding in acquiescence
the sages of the ages,
will then add your magnum opus
to their papyraceous pages.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 10:57 PM UTC