Poetry

nil desperandum

Faith flowers, planted in simmering
stygian organic toxin.

Sepals and stamen reach to grasp the quickening brilliance
from above; as below,
tendril digits sample poisoned stew;

yet brilliant petals emerge
and hope dances:

swirling, twirling, spinning with
delirious giddy laughter
scorning the vampire mask of tribulation’s terror.

Worship.

Blossoms watered by liquid crimson,
the ablutionary flood
shining and sparkling, ablaze
with flaming fragrant oil.

Hovering white feathered mercy
dances too,
plumage fanning sudden fire and power;

winged tongues wielding weapons of rapture;

cauterizing, comforting spirit.

And great pinons enfold the cosmos:

unrestricted, unrestrained,
infinite, intimate,
adoring, assuring,
ever-yearning, forward-knowing;

garrison for the palm-graven, the grafted:

impregnable freedom.

To eternity:
faith,
hope,
and love;

the greatest is love.

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