The shimmer of my soul
has moved beyond the war of
any obstruction that might be
observed on the glowing horizon
of another weary trail.
The sound of that beating heart
rings out, hums and peals clear
over the tops of trees
and mossy emotion and will not be silenced
into some small cage of ribs.
The locus of this dark and raging love
is simply derived from the Beloved
and is woven with golden threads
of absolute joy.
That hungry friend
laughs greedily
with wine in her fist
and invites her guests
to eat and drink
of the Divine
in each drop
of crimson
and hardtack.
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