Thursday, May 21, 2015


Some times love works better at a distance.
Remove proximity from affection's equation,
and live in the void left behind.
Seed the field of absence with prayers,
and harvest your heaven.

Like wicked men know the way to redemption.
Like silent monks hear with sharper clarity.
Like celibates who feel midnight ecstasy.

Like an orphan.
Like a widow.
Like a lost soul.
Like perfection.

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