Believing Beautiful, being a part of it


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I could sing of your love forever!
It rises, steam from snow soaked clay,
Warmed by soft rays of day.
Light dapples my lowered eyes,
And plays a joy-theme across my face.

What hell would be not to know,
From whence, from whom
This precipice of perfect emerges.
The crease between dawn and day,
Here I sit, here I am raptured.
How frail my worship seems.
It is drunk by your love, drunk by your presence.

And pleasure is found prostrate here,
In the crease between, in the budding light.
In the singleness, oneness of moment, morning, me and you.

Believing Beautiful at Haven Journal

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