for those who feel it the most.
for the underdogs, for the silent, hidden eruptions.
quelling with unnerving grip,
submerging itself in passion.
for the dangerous desire that seems to grow a garden in your chest
with penetrating roots, dispatching in search of streams of Living waters,
yet longs to form in the seclusion of dark.
for those who truly, feel it the most..
Dear God, you are that disturbing imbalance planting itself in my chest.
you are that fiery secret,
that cataclysmic eruption that threatens the heart of my small thinking;
my contaminated and self-contained lifeless inspirations.
you are that wild animal.. calling with cooing fervor in the cool dark.
and as you speak, my ears create containers catching the drips of your dew.
then this wave burning it's essence over and within me;
I feel this warming lucidity threatening my stability..
and in that moment, I for you, no longer exist in this fleshly body again.
for moment by moment
is made anew through strong, sterling perceptions and
retinal revelations that instigate the eyes.