Moonrise VanGogh

Moonrise VanGogh

Whatever would I do, now, without my knowing Compline?  Without the privilege, in exhaustion and humaness, to come before Whomever Made it All and Thusly, to return and commend the day?

Creation of Earth and Sky as I have loved it began in the murky seductive depths of Dark.  In secret and within cupped soulfulness, I know the Spirit Maker loved…

Loved, in Passion…Loved, in Lust.  Sensuous divinity in Perfect Touch.

As my memory traces back to faces and voices, those who I came across, my heart cries in embarrassment back to Father God…

Will C forgive my not being able to join her as she stumbles about in her righteousness?  Is writer S convinced I’m half nuts?  R in soulful solitude…does he know the moon I’ve hung high hopes, too, on?  Daughters gone and still trembling the air around me — do they feel a shift in the wind as I breathe amidst this stuff?

I am convinced that, when the time comes, again, for me to love and lust with another, I shall do so, IN BRIGHT LIGHT.  Darkness is  for the Intimate Acts of God…not I.   I will come, instead,  to do so only in sun and sight, only in announcement of  such,  loudly and obnoxiously, as we are to celebrate on Earth and in Us.

My mind, as can be seen is racing…running about to thrust my unresolved chaos at the foot of  an Unseen Cross.  As such, I cry, under the Oak trees and facing the Southern Cross…

“Into Thy hands, Oh Lord, I thrust

the stuff of Murky meaning and Heart Chaos”.