Unseen Extant Color

1:    breathe this in.
Don’t stamp it with conventions labels,  your identies.
   By inheritance this is  unique,
   every marker , every moment, every being
is the  the handiwork, the craftmanship,
of bloodied hands so big they could swallow the red-orange sun in the sky then you and I would finds miles to call home in every  fold of transfigured flesh that blankets the Soverign and dared to call the caverns of earthy insides home.
You and I are  the intent of a mind whose thinking defys
logic we’ve held close to our hearts
only to discover in a decade or two that
reality never  looked that way
Seams fastened long ago, we were quick to jump from inside the heavens to this outward   place
and now we stand before the reflective paintings of ourselves
presently progressing into the future, where all is finished.
And  it is in this mulitverse of dwelling places, felt with every heartbeat that dared to drum its instruction into history that we sit at the right hand side of that which is complete staring across the granulated film of time. and it is there  we smile at we see.


2: This plot of earth from which my skin was gathered is not my home.
One day my flesh will rot like a capsule swimming in the digestive fluids of a hungry mans stomach
and  spirit will rescind soul from body and disolve into that place that lives between the air and the buildings that we see.
To the place where people are just colorful luminaries... beautiful beautiful lights
Reds,oranges,coffee browns, peaches and purples, yellows, and greens.
Me, I’m a shade of blue..
Not dark blue
Somewhere between teal and the sea
and You ?

3: Do not stamp me with conventions,  labels, definitions.
Words societies have crafted to obscure the spectrum of variance, that is the burning bush that speaks through every individual.
I am not a top a bottom, trick, or trade
My love isn’t expressed in a role, of femme or butch,
a position invented for pay or play.
I  cannot be defined by a cloth, a flag, a political invention
or anything founded on crucifying the sacred in the name of
profit.

This is that it is and will be what it will be.

so
Crack your sternum open
find your light, your truth, that thing  inside that makes you shiver.
As it flickers
Listen to the whisper:
It’s nuturing condition, begging for interaction
“Children”, it whispers
“This is not defined by who you love, but how you love,
So open your arms wide and still yourself,
still yourself so that you can
accepts the gifts I am  breathing for you.
Yo Hey Vah Hey
Reds,oranges,coffee browns, peaches and purples
instructions these broken eyes cannot  define .