a daylight dream

  When it’s December and sunrise takes its time, the before of waking means so much. The aloneness of stillness, in my room, in the gentle radiating waves of night light doing the best it could do to seep these words out of my heart. I see myself more clearly now. I see the aching heartbeats that intensify when they’re loaded with deflected intentions manoeuvred by an ever-changing world. I skim through my day and a longing dazzles me— a longing to meet the truthful me in every moment of the day. This softened soul speaks ever so gently, still it is a scintillating light which shivers whenever there is a looming darkness. Before sunrise, it is the perfect time. I can see how it shivers swiftly, and my whole body shakes in tears, in confusion, in how much I long for the clarity of my love. I meant it, my dear one. I meant it when it is the dream that ignites every part of me to use this world in worship. It’s the dream to meet Him, and you, and a mirror of love in the hereafter. Wit...

you made out of this garden  a mirror-image of heaven gazing at your face every reason fading between us here it is, a soulful peace then there are the tears that would never leave  the mornings when the sun of forgiving was seen I saw dying when we went fruit-picking where we dropped all our worldly clinging the mist falls on me now I’m in a river where love sounds  do you cry, too, sometimes when a fractal of my presence lies next to you while all clinging dies