I don’t know what I want… or fully what I am… But I know what she is. I recognize her like the foggy haze of a dream stolen from the hearts of better men.
She is thunder in the storm, a voice cutting through the chaos giving purpose to the light.
She is my best kept secret, hidden away in chambers of love so deep I’ve yet to discover it for myself.
A deluge of sparkling fireworks, scalding the adoration clean off my tongue, rendering me speechless.
She is the cinnamon scent of well scored holiday cinema…
She is the candle I light when I don’t know what else to do and night won’t let me sleep.
A roaring delight, volcanic passion thinly wrapped.
She is a universe of unspoken divinity and I, a priest desperate for the prayer to charm her…
She is the aspiration of the ocean, the magic patiently sought by stardust.
A flower spinning petals through the bar room air, dashing the drowning depths of escapism with her dazzling photosynthesis.
She is the pause in my cadence, that sacred word just on the tip of my tongue that I can’t ever seem to remember…
She is the solitude of the hero and the flag of the warrior- nobility knows no identity without her.
An unblemished flaw, juxtaposing past and prologue, disturbing the stories swirling all around me with her reckless dedication to being so in the moment that all others fall away…
She is the response to our Lord’s very first command.
Let there be light…
And there was her.