tap tap tap...
our inner dignity of deep diamonds unfastened her tinsel tongue
and chiseled heavenly smile-lines beyond their recorded theological climax.
A mysterious cascade-web of silence was pulled away,
and the departing Knot of the Uncalling
(of what we were born to be as sinners)
dried my fragrant brow.
Both the living tomb of ancient yore
and the holy gravedigger of tomorrow,
surrendered their spirit upon the tiny, frail shoulders of elderly release
(the Elders know best).
Finally, a sacred question asks of its lonesome, personal apocalypse,
"How is it that
when we hold our sacred story within us from birth,
someone spills out a thousand forms of SPEED ROSARIES (Mega Malls?)
to alleviate our natural
desires?"
At the speed of lightning falling from heaven, someone shouted out,
"If God is everywhere,
thereby defaulting every moment as divine at its core,
would it not follow that
Satan is also divine?"
Problem is,
Satan thinks Satan is better than sacred,
just like most people who take the respective languages of God,
and call it the only language.
Simply put, praise is both distance and closeness,
so during a praise song,
my eyes fell on hers as her eyes sang her of love of Jesus.
I fell in love with the love in her spirit-island eyes.
Then,
I understood what they meant when they said,
"Eve was framed".
That day,
she and I quit kicking ourselves out of the Garden of Eden.
We ceased bargaining with forrests and trees,
and trading insignias with enigmas.
Our Past Lives of
sleeping across the fields of sight (as blindness),
and hearing one's own voice (as deafness),
became a veritable bable prison,
unless I heard her voice in mine.
tap tap tap
to the pure of heart
every sound is music.
Adding your comment:
~ Janet ~ 
