becalmed wind death doth ride into son the toll

act 3.

ii guess that’s what it is. death when close to the living can incite love for the family that chose me and yet my cohort still remains in the dust and warmth as we, with God as our aegis, work out from day to day this humanity and what human ness means in relationship one to another; to be an actionable Christian fully at home in flesh yet aware that we are spiritual beings bearing and sharing broken and healing the hearts into which each other leans as we go up mountains. and yet ii still morn with the leaving of spirit from flesh; abscounded like water drops in recklessness accompanyment of clouds into rain falling falling falling from the well in The Sun. A squall poured to Earth. Aprils shower given into gravity’s bow. ii’s just faster falling cause  ii aint got no light in it to rise no mo.

act 2. Spirit; the weight in colloidal silver;  alchemical. the exhalation that’s still alive after death. breath that consoles the arid promise born of as flesh. the being not so long gone from life’s bequest. just a hot whisper becomes a kiss to her. we are: tears, stardust, fecund heat, and the ubiquitous dampness of living air.

act 1. the WORD is self rising. the winking on the horizon that seems to be all that be to see is not the twilight drawing peach and burnished ochre rose bruises over the horizon we thinks it be. its the flickering light. like a butterfly hastened in flight. caught up in the prallax net twix the sun and what has become my single eyes sight. it be glittering sliver against black night. on off on off off and we gone into magenta like a hot thermal wind catches and takes up a kite.

and it was in all layers of lovingness.

all pretense dropped.

and just then 2×8 became 4.

and ii still love U.

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