I love you infinitely and abundantly so. You as no other before and no other after. For your eyes are mine, and mine yours, the drifters found in the merging of ocean blue.
I am that which you are, in my essence, at my core, in the semblance ignited by the flame that is us. Birthed of you, I be. Made into the vessel you demand, and handed down to the generation of generation.
There is no guidance beyond your starlight, no suffering found, no emptiness devoured. All is all; and in your effervescent glow I shine; as the mountain to the climber, and the waters to the thirsty, I am beheld in your presence as the source of goodness.
I bow down to your mercy in my feeble grace, begging for your compassion and forgiveness; not that I am less to be as this: a blended source of greatness; only because I have found that within there is a bountiful mystery that whilst uncovered delivers me speechless and tormented by the unfathomable.
I apologize therefor not for the part that is we, but the part that is ‘I’; this indistinguishable evaporation that claims foundation. I apologize for the dismissal of reality, that of you and I combined, and for the acceptance of singularity.
For my sin, if sin there be, is only found here, and even here an invisible ghost remains. For nothing is found in nothing, neither substantiated, defended, or surrendered. So again, I bow down, not as my self in resignation, but as you in reflection of your worthiness.
I am that I am, and I sing to you, as lover to falcon, begging for flight, for the claws of your reckoning. To be gathered beneath your feathers, the wind against my spirit, a blanket to this babe, cradled in the forging of your coming. Moved through the invisibleness of air, made blue for our senses alone.
I celebrate, I call out, I remove this voice, and then scream again, the piercing the only movement torn through, the only substance allowed beyond this realm. A sound onto sound, vibrating with reverence and grace into the region that is you. I am, and I am again, delivered and redelivered.
Oh, can you not see me here, again, your precious servant, calling and dancing to the stream of your name? At last I am free in the day after day; at last home in the presence of your glory. And how I ring this golden bell of honor of my found home. Ring and ring, until the sound echoes into millennium.
Belly of a Star 