I am blond and he is handsome May the kingdom of heaven be our gift; Before he hailed me, my heart was broken and loved by the Prince who died on the cross for me;
Inside this White cloister and under this patient space of ivory arches where my novitiate’s hours are spent here is where I weave my happiness I say my prayers without sorrow
Under this closed sky of early winter. I sleep a sleep that is attentive only to God. Inside this alabaster cloister I am a peace-filled and hopeless nun traveling with God by desire, waiting for angels to draw another chaste evening
I am blond and he is handsome I dream of his whispers, greedy and hear his soft humming against my flesh Blue, dark, transparent, I am caught inside the depths of greedy whispers, and soon someday he will be beside me, over me, inside me his longing has no end, his mouth speaks lover’s words, he has no time for prayers or begging;
He will open a scar in me, a stigmata I will be filled and full of miracles blasting through the sharded skies of his love, falling into the living water of his kiss, I cry out for caresses that satisfy every longing and blinding joy
I was walking the road to destiny I walked towards a flood of love I was walking the path of healing; I met my love as he waited in the morning mist, Edelweiss bouquet in hand, petals drying beneath the sun
I was walking the high road to him the Angelus ringing out from the chapel bell tower below, I was walking with a light step, feverish dreams reaching inside my aching heart as I walk I am the rolling hull, I am the wild oat in his field the perfect product of his cultivating, I am a furtive joy and a smile, my soul breaks through all darkness, even the darkness of his love’s great light, I am pale sunset of sighs and hard memories,
I am his misty future and vain repentance, his painful sunrise of glorious love, of worry, of weariness begging for leniency
He is an outlaw, his word is my beatitude, inside his love I keep vigil, I am the high beacon of shattered strength, I am his oar to shore, I am sulky of his disdainful desires, yet my kisses carry the bite of utter submission, I am the ancient rock, the spirit of reincarnated ancestors I am the eyes of the life beyond, I am faithful to his most absolute demand
Forgetting that time ends in all things, and even new beginnings become stagnant, she wished to see for the first time the oceans inside his eyes stop for a moment in her waters..
there are virgins who must always be near their god, and who when crossing each of his thresholds, make a wish instead of penance;
as love can come full season, she lights candles to keep dead watch over her wandering god and overcome with emotion, she throws open the door peering out to the distance, a new god coming in on tonight’s storm she guesses and hopes, lifting up her arms, palms open to catch the sunset songbird singing over every wound on this earth.
If anyone hears me, if anyone is listening, my tears have dried, if someone accepts me as I am, if there is any love left, if our soldiers become prayers, if the warring trumpets fall silent, if your tears for my king are benediction.. if there is any love left, if a single word were enough, if my voice carries consolation, if my love knew how to console if our hands entwined lift up bearing swastikas of peace,
if death were silent and life sacred, I would no longer be alone…
Alternate realities do exist, not in other dimensions, but in the minds of every living organism (be it sentient or otherwise). Our individual realities are constructed within our minds, attempting to process, or make sense of, a massive flow of information, at a speed equal to it. "Reality" is what we perceive, rather than an actual plane of existence or awareness.