deep and late into the hem of night
my thoughts question uncertainties,
perhaps my heart does not believe in life
anymore, and deem men as anti-heroes;
so i lock the door of my tactile pores,
yet i speak of men in my accepted duality
somehow, honoring the smell of their laughter,
and their taste of affection with anger
to sketch their contours with my skin
on white linen between ceiling and lamp;
that when i open my eyes to look at their faces,
i see the whole universe.
then to recall how gazing through a skyline
the moon reflects tints of past flames and strangers,
as peak of moments’ rapture explodes
slicing the darkness ...changing whimpers to wonder...
that all i could say is “ thank you”,
appreciating my imperfectly perfect world...
i recall filling a basin of warmth for them
when streams of giving chains me
in the under –toe of hunger’s ebbs and tides,
embracing the divine wonder in their beings.
* if we perceive a man or woman from a perspective
of seeing his/ her inner beauty despite some flaws, wouldn't
it be a wonderful place to be?
*inspired by Louis Armstrong’ “ what a wonderful world”
Frank H's I Recall Contest
by nette onclaud