Sermon.

Her voice

renders Me

In twenty six different places

 

My body aches

 

Tears fall

 

I hear her
Upon

Touching me

Touching her

 

In the songbirds

Near the creek

Where we met

 

And in my halfsleep

I feel her entirely

 

Sometimes I

Don’t feel very whole

 

Others took pieces of my soul

I cant even explain

 

Nor recover

 
A dear friend once asked

Are those really your hands?

Or mine?

 

How so powerful

And

What are they for?

 

why so small?

 

For being of service; of course

 

 

Small things

produce great change

When done

naked

Loose

without conditions

Bereft of ownership

Nor hurts

 

Life

Life; has lost her way

 

Less is more

moon whispers

Milky way reminds me

I am not THAT important

 

Butterfly dreamers

Blue yellow and green

Roam free

 

Pretry little Gods creatures

 
I look away

Coy

Indiscriminate

Knowingly

Lovingly

 

Dog sits in the corner

Half awake

Curiously able

To read the stories

 

Within the stories

 

Anything gets thrown casually

In the wind

I wish all would settle quickly

 

Dog is always awake though

 

Knows exactly what is going on
When gods

are dancing the edges

Her sermons

String quartets

Call my name

 

She is bringing me in

Now
I do not know

I do not know

What it is a about you.

 

Even the moon has such small hands

 

20170809_092616-4

 


I do not know…

 

 

But she does

 

 

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