And it is this night, the blue night of
a thousand stars when a million holy
evangelicals bending the night softly
but severely, their arcs waving
like sails, pulsing through his beauty
his strong limbs above me while
starlight wings wave angelically

through the matrix of infinite history’s
cold streams running over beds of stone
embalmed in mystery, and cries of prayers
Sometimes lightstreams escaping throwing
off bolts of lightning, in shapes soft in
the distance, covering the climbing hills

My lover moulding the shape of my heart
his fingers like fog smoothing over my
cracked gullies, the earth rising beneath me
lifting me to the sky, turning to catch his kisses
love that is still poorly defined is the very
definition of love Itself, Love as a verb
a virginal love turning erotic Love opening
to first ecstasy forever, together we call out for
the merciful God who will protect us
from all evil, our eyes on the skies where
the fire is rising to a clapping far off thunder
ending in a song of glad blessing and penance

©Ionwhite