Wednesday, April 18, 2018

Pentecostal Valentine

The long melodrama of materialism
Struggling not to be re-dreamed
By another morning
 
By the holy spirit of morning
So solemn and discrete
Setting every twig on fire
 
What language are you speaking
Proprietary and patronizing
Dim music of the spheres
 
As if morning didn’t own us
As if the sun wasn’t our first step
Into these bodies of flesh and blood
 
Fresh with new ideas old despairs
Out of those other worlds
Of dreaming light

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