Approaching the Divine by onetwistedpoet, literature
Literature
Approaching the Divine
Hold me rapt in your gaze Between celebration and ceremony Hold me lost in your mystery Impermanence promised Through parted lips Red with maybe Dark with no. Sometimes worship means accepting that we can be both invited and not welcome, The divine lesson: Truth was made to be desired Transformed by trespass We were only meant to ask
Who said we gave up? by onetwistedpoet, literature
Literature
Who said we gave up?
When the shards of silvered glass settle on the ground at our feet, our trained response to the stimulus is to examine our image in them. The plurality of polyhedrons share a similar propensity for reflection but we're too transparent and it's apparent that our apparitions have been cultivated from something insubstantial. There's the clothes but like all postmodern emperors we're most comfortable shielded by lies from inquiring eyes; our naked intentions an exposé on the excellent job we've done industrializing individuality. So no, they may reflect ideas but they don't return any light, they're black holes as far as the enquiring eyes
Beautiful, saintlike by onetwistedpoet, literature
Literature
Beautiful, saintlike
And maybe
what I called loving you
was just never opening the car door,
letting inevitability puddle at our intertwined feet
like the speeding tickets,
train tickets,
concert tickets,
detritus of a past that made our silences so rich
while the water rose
and we ignored the pull even as the truth tried to make us cold
we fought it by pressing our bodies together
until we couldn't feel where you ended and i began,
neither one of us wanted to be the first to breathe
or open our eyes
so we were never quite sure when we realized we were both alone,
numbly following those thermodynamic laws and consequence
to our own parallel
but e