A higher love exists when isolated, alone and making the best of it by your nature. |
My efflorescence sings on the ground. The loathsome oak leans low to listen. Aching branches hang heavy; unfurl breathless, fanning glory. Each burst fades, tumbles, dutifully crumbles, feeds life back to the giver. Am I loved if I shelter myself beneath the lightning-ravaged trunk? Miraculous droplets of clear purity descend on unprotected chin, knowing I'm an unrepentant sinner 'til the day I spoil the ground with my own decay. Am I loved if I don't lend my instrument to harmonize with your golden voice, a wholesome symphony cascading over mountains meant to spare my dry, forgotten valley? I tell you I'm not worthy of you, returning your 'heartfelt,' echoing praises. Yet I will stand on my heart just to hear your proclamations, lifted higher by the faintest of nurturing words. I gravitate to the hopeful heavens to commune with a lasting felicity. I have known love of the most immaculate perfection, unlike the oily, piteous contempt that in veil slithers about. But, I am as simple as dirt, pale as death with two pink lungs. I return to sit on scorched grass beneath that withered tree, thriving high on faithful bluff. Thread-like roots yearn God's tender mercy and the only reward one solitary man can humbly receive. This poem got its start thanks to one random poster in my notebook: "Note: You are loved, my friend. *Heart* " Then, the original poem, 'Am I Loved?' was spawned, raw and unedited, in my blog with an addendum... "Invalid Entry" See, we can inspire one another here. Interaction is important to keep this community flourishing. There is no telling what beauty can bloom if we spare a few words for one another, now and then. http://spillwords.com/efflorescence-song/
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