Untenable
It's difficult, spiritually painful, nearly impossible
Being here,
Knowing, in the spare marrow of my sorrowing bones,
That my flesh has been appropriated by holiness,
Is possessed
By the essences of angels breathing the cosmos alive,
Powers that have invested my intellect and imagination
With divinity
That compels me to be elsewhere, for the well-being of my soul,
A definitive recognition that what I need to survive
Is nothing
But the fragile shell in which my generosity dwells,
So that I might compose the universe, atom by atom,
In eternity,
Whenever my mind finds its sacred learning, once again,
Which is why this space I occupy is untenable.
Being recently deceased
Is a metamorphosis over which I've had no control.
05/24/10 - (1)
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