This doesn’t mean Love cannot wear your face,

Or prayers I’ve writ in sand won’t sanctify your grace,

It cannot mean a cruel end of me

Ended in the desert: born asea.

Hands to lips to feel along my seams

There’s out there someone shown me in my dreams.

The light deceives by shining deep inside

A day will come that over me, it glides.

I wait, I wonder, stare & live: I pray

I live with Joy beginning every day.

= = = = =

You fool! Like so many men you plunder that treasure of imagined personal truth ignoring love & the American Way. You find defense in the fortress or your God, barred & bolted, safe & shriveled to fit your pants.

Me? I want to escape into love – I want to walk around naked & have a lover plunder my moisture, lengthening into my depths as I lift to home him. I want to watch his brow furrow in delightful discovery.

Like so many whose lips are sealed around the font of “wisdom” perceived in only one dimension, you’re unable to be lover. You place your life in the basket of future, set it on the pulley & call for acceptance, not understanding Love needs no more than the Now to exalt existence!

We are not put into this world to plan for the next, but to live this Now!

Why look beyond that? Beyond my hand, outstretched, my face expectant, my body ripe for love?

(I have waited this long. I can wait longer & know I will not be forever empty. Yet I lament what might have been.)

This is why I hold my heart in expectation, why I connect in random places. One day a likeness to that which I am, & love, will form & come nearby. One day that light will shine upon me.

Men go to war, looking beyond the settled peace of now. Women hold that space, hands outstretched, faces alight, bodies ripening.

I have waited this long: I will not be forever empty. A result of circumstance, men go into future time with present pain oblivious to the grace of now.

The lot of women un-inclines to war. A beauty of regard is to be had discovering the One, I am  healthy, lighting candles you prefer to snuff to remain hidden. I call your name from these places, I ask the beneficence of your discovery as you eagerly quest the next best in an unformed future.

I am fantasy a la masquerade to the time you open your eyes in acceptance. I implore: “Find me here!”

I ask again why you so not trust your God to find  you – your soul’s unique beacon – but must quest outward, drawing a  covering cloak over all you are, to become what you perceive you wish to be?

This seeking is a limitation: only change your vision to see the cities & sanctuaries women offer. Look into the much-vaunted soul to perceive the immediacy available in the Present.

In the alley of  your plannings, you miss the cities & civilizations of women. Your signal evaporates in the “maybe” while mine stands steady in its calling.

I cannot fight your being this way, only provide an alternative based in love & steadiness & blessing – that warm pulse of a small truth of Presence.

= = = = = =

Lightly I walk the web of your existence; dancing I insinuate myself into it. But still, you look beyond.

And So It Is.

= = = = =