Holy Love

A trianglely encounter,
had opened my heart sofistingly, sternly.
A golden, pure theophania. 

Thoughtless mess,
I feel inside the burning of adulterers 
and heretics, shallow in their desire.
How came, praying was not of longing.
I will be stichted to the iron cross.

I shall cry forever, carrying the heaviness 
of a life gone in desolution.
You will be remembered by the air you exhale.

Or better, one improving sign.
I hoped so.
It was never as easy.

Come in white garments and faithful chastity.
Walker upon ages.
I raise a claim,

of you truly ours.
Never considered.
Breaks my conviction.

Words and Jesus Hair,
I summon a miracle.
A mircale of attention.

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