Our Sacred Lady of the Divine Perfect Imperfections - Part 1

"Our Sacred Lady of the Divine Perfect Imperfections" - Part 1 Our Sacred Lady of the Divine Perfect Imperfections is worthy of our fervent introspection constantly, equatiously for SHE is “You” and “You” is SHE this is no mischievous chicanery, this is no forced emergency to gather facts that berate, negate her ardent need to supplicate in front of her mirror daily seeking self-validiction to your nettlesome words you’ve shaded her with your sharp thorns of hidden hate and jealousy your waning smiles injecting spite, pure fiction, exonerating X-Ray Vision evil eyes delivered to her on your silver plates of lies with derisive smiles and words that do precipitate, you delight in her inward doubt for you think you have won her eyes are numb with pain she cannot clearly see anymore what truly resides there in her heart and mind. In her burning turmoil, her great despair succombs to frisson you bust to bits a deadly grenade exploding all her perfect imperfection that truly contain all her potent virtues her real true grit. Perhaps too late, you think, "She's shut the gate". What she hears in her mind is what you’ve set on course in her veins through all your thorny lies she takes it on like a deadly drug it takes effect and reverberates inside out all her mortal inadequacies NEVER SELF-LOVE - it denegrates. This is lost, like all her dreams. Was this your vengeful scheme? In her Divine Perfect Imperfections she now infinitely doubts; "Mission Accomplished", you perceive, she has lost within all of who she truly is. Well, that’s a lie. Nothing could be further from the truth. Her heart is steely, if rather uncouth. What she requires is your grace, respect, your loyalty. She’s aware she is rising, she thinks, this is her Resurrection - perhaps you should be considering genuflection. Not dancing a jig with bitter almonds, for now you think her core is dead and you can celebrate your final Victory, your Win. Of course, this is the result of non-warranted strategic intervention. This was not your garden to trample on, fumigate all her blossoms with your spurious persona, your vitriolic acid she had planted genuinely to remain blooming freely in her holy, mother sacred breeze. This was her garden, her Golden Grail, her shrine divine where she worshipped all that came from her inner strength, her power, her love divine, one pure beautiful flower created in the lovely April of her prime. (Lovejoy-Burton/2017 Dec)