Thursday, March 10, 2011

Tout porte a croire

When layers of love

arrive at the same heaven

there forms spurred edges of Greek grovelling.

& at the feet of destiny,

thy lips seek favor.

So what then becomes of the boundless walls of the world?

& so again, what of sky weighted by religion?

Where will you roam when they won't let you in?

Herein there lies the flowery flame,

of position,

of inspiration.

For when mighty mountains climb themselves,

I'll grow smitten with my own heart.

& I'll drink my fill of Me.

& become drunk with the sweet drops of faith I find

that form
on every single blade of grass
in the meadow of my soul.

How could I not?

Why would I stop?

For first beginnings are not always the wisest of wisdom's way.

& now I know better.


ps: It means "There is every reason to believe."

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