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The shadows of my heart


The shadows of my heart compel me toward your light, for I know that within your luminescence, there is a brightness in my heart and purification of my mind. I know that what I feel about you is genuine, extending beyond the emotional into that which is beyond me.

The shadows of my heart are comforted by your presence, and my sense of well-being becomes delightfully refreshed. Hold me in your thoughts as I hold you in my heart. I am the sweetness of your kiss when you touch my lips with yours. I am the fullness of your smile as I look into your eyes.

The shadows of my heart fade away at the sound of your footsteps, and the silhouette of my being becomes well-defined as I am no longer an outline. You fill me with fullness and chisel me into every contour of your curves. I am lost within and without, but not without doubt, about you who completes me.

The shadows of my heart are dark and brilliant with the warmth of your presence that leaves me breathless when you blow me a kiss. You are the dwelling within me that makes me feel like a man where no social norm has the privilege to define what I am. I am your strength. I am your love. I am a man. You are a woman.

The shadows of my heart have encased themself within your arms. I now know as never before the pleasures of being alive. In the beginning, you created my world when you said hello, and then it was, and then it was not, the first day of my life.

Waiting for death to come


I am waiting for death to come. One hour, one day, one week, bleeds into another as the appointed time of my demise relentlessly approaches. The apprehension of the unknown casts a shadow upon my longing to get the catastrophe of my life over.

The debacle of my birth haunts the domain of the living, even creeping into the futility of the dead. I am waiting for death to come without a moment’s notice or a word of warning. Why should I be afforded such luxury when my deserving is not befitting such?

Hour by hour. Week by week. The breath is exhausted, and the lights dimmed to embrace nothing more and devour the before. The beat of my heart pounds my ears as I try to sleep, reminding me of how fragile life is. Throb after throb telling me that the end is near.

I want it to be over, but on my terms. The fear of the unknown is a quest to explore the still coldness of the ground above and the heat of the earth’s mantle below. The beautiful dense darkness of peace surrounds me in tranquility never before.

I am waiting for death to come, as it surely will. All thoughts gone, my eyes closed, my life done. I am no more, joining my sister as all those who have gone before me. The stiff coldness of death encompasses me, as my existence is forgotten by the cosmos. Think goodness.

Beneath a Balboa tree


Eons ago the splendor of Nut fell upon a young man as he sat beneath a balboa tree during the middle of the day. The radiance of her perfect pitch-black resplendency caused the heart of this young man to feel as though it was melting away within the darkness of Nut’s delicate loveliness. Being placed within an altered state of consciousness as she began to speak to him the resonance of her voice contained all the wisdom of the known and the unknown in all their majesties of frequencies and colors.

Lifting the young man into her arms and pressing his mouth to one of her breasts the young man is suckled by Nut with the knowledge that she has acquired over the ages. Knowledge that she has assimilated before there was a before and knowledge that she knows is to come within the expanse of the ongoing.

Eternally bright from epoch to epoch, forever unfolding in luminosity, Nut gives her acquired wisdom to this young man whom she has adopted unto herself. Immortal to mortal, immeasurable frequencies and colors given to most beloved water and dirt, Nut spares none of her acquired wisdom to the young man as she breastfeeds him with that which she has created and with that which she has learned.

As a covering over him Nut is the young man’s protector and sustainer, his giver of life and his reincarnation to existence after life. As it were a babe sitting beneath a balboa tree during the middle of the day the young man’s growing astuteness towards realities far beyond himself are judicious and prudent under the weight of maturity that the milk of Nut’s quintessence is likewise installing into him.

A kernel of truth is not the truth and a tidbit of this is not the whole of that. Fashioned for her pleasure the young man is now Nut’s treasure giving light to those who want light and a dense darkness to those who do not want to partake of her intense dark beauty. Truly, this young man has come of age as ages have come to him by the wisdom that is being given to him by the covering of Nut.

So, what am I to say as one of the lost and found? Am I to ignore the wisdom that Nut as given to the young man and wallow within the distortions of the distorters as most of the peoples of the world so dim-wittingly do? Glow with the glowing of Nut’s eyes and shine with the brightness of Nut’s smile for she is your covering and your truth that will guide and protect you from yourself and from those who want to harm you.

Free your mind of the ideologies and philosophies of those who are not of Nut, those who have made the planet earth an unhealthy place to live and who ultimately want to destroy it and all its creatures and distort the story of life (history) to magnify themselves.

Beneath a Balboa tree sat a young man whose name is my name, whose name is your name. While sitting beneath this Balboa tree during the middle of the day the luminosity of Nut embraced this young man elevating his manner of thinking, enlightening him to this but not that, and raising him from the bottom to the uttermost highest which is his native state of existence.

So it is that intelligence is fixed within the braids of Nut’s hair and enlightenment is her abode and all whom are her own who want to devour her whole is free to do so for Nut is the shroud of elegance and layers of infoldings. And it is so.