Archive
05/24/10 - (1)
Untenable
It's difficult, spiritually painful, nearly impossible Being here, Knowing, in the spare marrow of my sorrowing bones,
That my flesh has been appropriated by holiness, Is possessed By the essences of angels breathing the cosmos alive,
Powers that have invested my intellect and imagination With divinity That compels me to be elsewhere, for the well-being of my soul,
A definitive recognition that what I need to survive Is nothing But the fragile shell in which my generosity dwells,
So that I might compose the universe, atom by atom, In eternity, Whenever my mind finds its sacred learning, once again,
Which is why this space I occupy is untenable. Being recently deceased Is a metamorphosis over which I've had no control.
05/24/10 - (1)
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