never gets boring….
MY LIFEEEEEEEEEEE
A andardráttur, A neisti
A familiar breath…
The same spark re-lit from months ago.
Heart thumps beat in awakening,
and remembrance
breathes into my nostrils to jump-start this sleeping soul.
————————————————————————————————
“Love exists!” screams my victory cry.
“Life is joy!”
Beauty. Hallelujah.
Sniff {breath!}, sniff {life!}
————————————————————————————————
Chest meets bark too slow. {Nakken}
Firm floiage.
I look up your torso, O Tree,
to find it:
Joy. Beauty. Flawlessness; Perfection. Creator. G_D.
Intertwined into a destined mess.
————————————————————————————————
Brother Wind crosses
my wet, tear-stained face.
A faint whispere
of howls:
“…love.”
————————————————————————————————
Trumpets
Strings
flittering flutes of Creation’s Heart.
Voices like honey.
Their resounding purity
pulses into my ears and it
drips off the leaves
like new dew
upon the chlorofilled ones.
————————————————————————————————
Buzzing ears drown the summer
into masterpieces of Existence.
And Creation’s moans are quieted
until Silence and Joy consumes
them all.
us all.
————————————————————————————————
Everything, Beauty, everything exists.
But no thing dies.
It just all wakes up,
except for those haunted, numb
Sleepers.
————————————————————————————————
Love breathed us into Existence, into Itself.
Some just deny it. Some just deny Truth. Some just fake out Love.
Love consumes Its children.
Love ate my soul, my figure, my body.
————————————————————————————————
Thank you, O Designer of Intelligence.
Thanks to You, Mother.
Your breast and my chest rest
on my chest and Your breast.
When minds become heavy and hollowed, hallowed, billowed, burrowed…
carry us far away into the land
of milk and honey
————————————————————————————————
Dear Cradling Woman on whose
breast I rest when the world
disintegrates Happiness and Beauty
from everything,
Takk…
————————————————————————————————
Amen, O Holy One,
Amen.{Hallelujah!}
P.S. ————————————> The end.
does not exist.
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