I Must Confess

I must confess that when I was younger Love was not always my first impulse… Anger the impediment-- Fear the antagonist; and now, much older Love must be present, the main ingredient in all endeavors; permeate as scent of a blossom and Light redeeming dawn—there must be interaction with the Soul of Love or all my past and negative conclusions positively foregone-- not to be confused or misinformed: I speak beyond the surface norm though how appealing shades evolving rapturously into hues entrancingly revealing, with misty perfumes that ride the air such carpet magic beguiling—the contours of smiles though how captivating now most manufactured from these Pearly-whites I run, yes leap into evasive flight as day often seems to bolt haphazardly into perilous night… as with religion no longer faith enough to charm and draw me with its promise, such mysticism that climbs above all suffering as if no height too high we glide above like angel span soaking up thermals escaping our sacrificial earth such pagan body left far below with new eyes and heart unwavering-- to say I soar for the Genuine God is to say I enter deeper within-- there is no true beauty needing further definition outside of itself… I speak of the rose at the moment of perfection when color and scent on immortal display, the mountain’s highest peaks when baptized with a season’s first snow and the moon full-spot-on illuminating the dramatic-face of heaven’s own figurative show I grow in spirit, reach and aspire-- all nature a performer and we theaters All God….