Infinitely Wilting and Alive, I Know Him
I know him infinitely, in the forest where he grows.
Where speckled greenery is abundant and joyful, paranoid and secretive.
I know him infinitely.
Quietly observing his growth
I am patient as dew waiting to die.
His only wilting habit erases my sense of time
and there in some expanding Heaven I’ll deceive myself,
no white cloud holds me for I am weighted by his world
in which I consumed some time ago.
Trees that grow wild and tall may conceal his existence
but his will is strong and his roots drink only Holy Water;
in prayer I sense his sins which covet his soul.
He is no sin to me, just a beautiful thing I care to nurture.
Perhaps the hand of God planted this seed we found together
and in some universe this love is something of a treasure.
No metal ever so precious, no gold ever so spectacular
could compare to our fate embroidered infinity.
To know him is to apprehend the forest in which he is indifferent to.
He never heeds his immediate surroundings for he knows his home is Heaven,
and in each cloud he creates a step closer to discovering
an answer to the question neither of us claim yet are mutually mulling.
Silent are the days and nights but I know his eyes;
I know him infinitely wilting and alive in full bloom.
|