God Knows Where I Am

Across the tossing tumult of reality my brain gasps for truth, for freedom. This inconvenient leprosy of mind, whose scarred visage must be quelled. My own reflection has no scars, yet, all about are those that insist that ... AH! What a perfect sunrise! no soylent concoction, no peering prying eyes -hidden yawns or dulcet tones or pseudo smiles, suggesting - DEMANDING I ...no, this day I will go to where only God knows where I am. I will dance with the forgotten frantic weeds - spayed and sprayed, dandelions of disdain live here unfettered This house, neglected, forgotten in a field of imperfection to those who can not see what is perfect, is Heaven to me! Apples with scarred blemished skins beg to be loved - excused for their imperfections shall be my nourishment. The passing of each day - my romantic vision transformed, my own pace, my own space, where freedom hugs me, warms me, feeds me and loves me -sleep dear child, you are free. I am found, but then, God always knew ...where I was. (True story, please google "god knows where I am" - it will haunt you)