Sacred Contracts XIV: Freedom

I wake to a flushed ribbon between
shadow  and first light, an aperture
separating nothing and everything
that can’t be defined; a Windblown
streamer, horizontal atop dark silhouettes
of buildings and trees holding fast to sleep,
a carmine portal closing under an anvil
of thunderheads frosting the landscape
with snow and ice. This holy nameless,
ethereal silence where I find the only
expression attainable to measure
the beauty of your manifestation
ensuing a lifetime of faithfully believing.  
 
I once thought that love was like a garden;
after the fall, I realized it was really freedom.
~