How
deny me light; a life you sought; a world you
understand?
It’s empyreal, and laced with darkness, where
the latter infuses the former. We say it often that, “We
are
one,” with little to exclaim. It’s an altered dialogue, a
temblor
for souls, a ghostly print. What does it mean to
shift?
It means for layers, quilted attitudes, an exotic
response.
I met a sculptress. She was raised religion. She
could
shift realities, summons light, to flip a heart. Where
it
comes through God, she argues for humans. I point to
orientation:
Can we lose it—a gift from God? One says, yes;
another
says, no. I, too, argue for no, but pride leads to
humiliation.
Both positions are supported through Scripture.
How
deny me light; a pulse you sought; a life you
understand?
We live as whetstones, ever to sharpen, and ever
for
maintenance. It’s majestic, as well as painful, an opus
for
soul-sounds; but such splendor, a mystic halo, as feral as
humans.
We ache sublimely, to greet a tiara, a woman
trained
in cultic life. How was she awakened? Is it belief, or
even
faith? What was for introduction? Its core a mechanism,
afire
a soul, even a force of action. I cry, “Yes”; to caution,
No;
for it’s a mixture to cause ripples.
Can
we light a spark, agog in spirit, to feature a nonplus?
Indeed,
we skip for trees, alive in serpents, breathing light.
It’s
a faint elixir, to partake of spirit, to scream, “Namaste”;
for
what is greeted, a storm of thunder, even a person. So “We
are
one,” a one for we, composed of an inward mechanism.
Would
we argue that, “All is light,” or “All is darkness?” Such
are
secrets gathered through an, “Us,” where “Likeness” is law.
