Monday, September 24, 2012

In Flaws & Perfection - a poem













In Love, sanctimony is condemned and confounded,
understood as intangible skin by grace abounded,
and although my blood may course and race
and time disards in our haste
my pride that was twisted and bent
is straightened now by your feathery taste.

My voice, trembled and shaken
enraptured by your gaze
grows decidedly silent in these midnight morning stays,

and the stone tower once housing
all that I fear to become
crumbles as dust in the wake of your love
and is undone.

These are my imperfections, my gifts, my flaws.
This is my soul righteous, alive and raw.
This is my future now to bend two into one
that we may know God in Life as in Love.

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