A higher love exists when you're alone amid nature.
My efflorescence sings on the ground.
The loathsome oak leans low to listen.
Aching branches hang heavy;
Each burst fades, tumbles,
feeds life back to the giver.
Am I loved if I shelter myself
beneath the lightning-ravaged trunk?
Miraculous droplets of clear purity
descend on unprotected chin,
knowing I'm an unrepentant sinner
'til the day I spoil the ground
with my own decay.
Am I loved if I don't lend my instrument
to harmonize with your golden voice,
a wholesome symphony cascading over mountains
meant to spare my dry, forgotten valley?
I tell you I'm not worthy of you,
returning your 'heartfelt,' echoing praises.
Yet, I will stand on my heart
just to hear your proclamations,
lifted higher by the faintest of nurturing words.
I gravitate to the hopeful heavens
to commune with a lasting felicity.
I have known love of the most immaculate perfection
unlike the oily, piteous contempt that in veil slithers about.
But, I am as simple as dirt,
pale as death with two pink lungs.
I return to sit on scorched grass
beneath that withered tree,
thriving high on faithful bluff.
Thread-like roots yearn
God's tender mercy and the only reward
one solitary man can humbly receive.
This poem got its start thanks to one random poster in my notebook:
"Note: You are loved, my friend. ..."
Then, the original poem, 'Am I Loved?' was spawned, raw and unedited, in my blog with an addendum...
"Am I Loved?"
See, we can inspire one another here. Interaction is important to keep this community flourishing. There is no telling what beauty can bloom if we spare a few words for one another, now and then.