Doomed Holy

I wish to know where creases lie,
sensual lines that are a road map to your desire.
Can you feel me now?

Whispers are
Feather light fingertips
and soft skin weeping.
Trembling through its tears,
begging for a release
it hopes will never come.

What if we fade away softly?
What if we are no more than the Breath of Dreams?
Just two soulful bodies doomed to be Holy.

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About Universal Shift

I am the Sonata Unusual. I coat myself with some obtuse angle too far below zero to become any warmer. I create motivation, activate schemas, moisten gardens with scents of natural honeydew. Construct this meaning, you sleepy flock. Silence your singing—despairing contortions out of tune. Shatter the brittle butterfly glass with your hideous wailing. I am born of my god’s imagination. When I die I shall meet him. For there are many things to discuss over tea…or scotch.

Posted on February 13, 2012, in Author, Fiction, poetry, Religion and Spirituality, writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.

  1. Doomed to be holy? Interesting idea.

    • Thank you. 😀 I ponder the Sacred and Profane (and the fine line between) quite often.

      • Is holiness inevitable? For everyone? Or just the (un)lucky chosen?

      • That depends on what you consider Holy. This particular piece was inspired by pondering the act of love. Some people consider it holy, others consider it a sin. But there can definitely be spiritual connections involved, and if that’s the case, then how can something that nurtures your soul be a sin? Hence doomed to be Holy.

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