He thought of her
as an emblem
her impression
drawn through the ancient
along a cliff in sanskrit
and painted upon a cave
with his soul
in which he gave.
For when he saw her
he could only scribble
until a word made sense,
an archaic expression
in an image of perfect tense
like the heart shaped crest
she thrust upon his chest.
For she was the prayer
in which he knew worship.
She held the wilderness
in which he lost himself
and in her nature
where he found his peace,
she was the poetry
in which he understood
what hope meant
and in her beauty
he saw something
no man had ever seen.
And they say
that it was she
who lit the love
that showed him the way.
BeLove © 2018

My roots are buried in the Dirty South. I grew up learning the importance of God and Southern Charm. I began writing in my late teens mostly through heartbreak and music. I moved out west 15 years ago and live right around the corner from the Fountain Of Youth. Most people refer to it as Lake Tahoe. I play Chef during the day and search for ways to save the world by night, through reading, writing, and believing. I enjoy the side of life that is less abrasive. I look forward to joining you on my quest through Spiritual Sobriety with the Promised Land as our ultimate destination.

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