The Way of Nature versus Grace
Good God I see the beauty in you, how much beauty can be left?
How much beauty can seep through the soul of human beings that are bereft of too much joy?
The beauty creeps through the veiny clefts of eternal beauty and lies way beneath the mortal flesh beneath the corrupted breast.
I want to touch you, but it is best that I leave you there like the wooden chest beneath the sea. I earnestly long for you to be free from the calamity that is me. I want you to know that I heave love and you breathe in me, that I see doves and I want to give you golden leaves from the garden of Eden and as for Eve, she will rectify her mistakes, eat Adam’s dust in order to be fulfilled, take in Adam’s thrust and be muffled by the punishment that is the twenty-first century.
And we, we will love whatever reminds us of ourselves; whatever reminds us of beauty, whatever reminds us of you.
Gentle is the wind that comes
From the nothingness of the earth
And embraces us like invisible silk
Slipping from our frail human skin.
Its invisible touch is tender to us
But as it puts on displays of wonderful shows,
Tossing a skirt or dress into a delightful pose,
It is a rough and brutal thing,
A loving nuisance because it is hard
To love back, being immune to sight and all.
I dream to find its source,
Its place of origin, where it’s hollow ghostly
Sound emerges from.
I dream to follow it
And go where it goes,
Until perhaps it decides to take me with it
And redeem me from the confinement
That is this body.
He went there to learn how to give a good perm and ended up just crazy about nails so He opened up His own shop. "Nails by Jim" He called it. He was afraid to call it Nails by God. He was sure people would think He was being disrespectful and using His own name in vain and nobody would tip. He got into nails, of course, because He'd always loved hands-- hands were some of the best things He'd ever done and this way He could just hold one in His and admire those delicate bones just above the knuckles, delicate as birds' wings, and after He'd done that awhile, He could paint all the nails any color He wanted, then say, "Beautiful," and mean it.- See more at: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/16484#sthash.Zg1iIRep.dpuf
(source: wallpaperswide.com )
When I stand and contemplate my fate and see the path along which you have led me I reach my end, for artless I surrendered to one who is my undoing and my end
~Gabriel Garcia Marquez
The sun is a loyal lover
Even when the earth puts on
Her grey coat
And cries over nights
The sun still shines for her
On the other side
Of the clouds