Whoa… She’s rising to greet me in her mist covered meadow with her Love made from Love, crafted of laughter mixed with a solemn vow, formed of joy, mixed into worship’s hymn.
One worship, one. My eyes have finally failed me, after all the other animal things within and upon went to ditch, I’ve failed and I’ve crushed the last of the good lives inside of gumdrops as trail left by the wind and the rain. Let me come soon after and traipse a lie on my way back… for tomorrow and tomorrow.
Give a man a home where the piano pounds, and out pours its joy with the air of gravity, where the laughter pours as smooth as the drinks, as smooth as me and you in our dance of Love. It is what you are, it is I. It is we. She’s the long mirror all the way to the back of the soul, nothing hides, nothing chides, if after we recognize ourselves in Love, we rise to her care.
She is injured and we are the invaders who needn’t try to conquer that which we seek…
Let me fly away with you inside the wind and me inside your arms evermore. I am a creature of your will. Your Love touches all we’ve ever seen, all we’ve ever known, they’re calling down with their guitar strings and loving tongues and beauty waiting to arrive within us all, inside the wind. Come and lift me above the concrete agony, lift me a good ways that I might be in awe of your breadth, that I may see in a certain light, get a feel of what it is to be in pain, to be suffering, to be regretting your looming choice-
Hush! No more of this waiting…
© 2011 by mark prime