Theatre for god

A vantage point appears.
Sweet retrograded development.
The circle of a life, returning to where it came.
Return to shed some skin.
Dispose a sin that was trapped like a bird in a cage.
These lungs are full of alpine air.
Yet the breath is that of god.
With eyes that shine with a light of a creator.
Marvelling at his own work.
To motion an intent, is to peel back the curtain.
To slip inside the mind, is to speak another truth.
Barefoot and broken, weathered and open.
The state does not matter, for the audience can no longer see.
All this is for God, and sweet mother earth.
Rumbling in a third act that threatens a resolve.
But let us speak not of happy endings or peace.
The story is still unwritten. And the parts have yet to be filled.
What is known of the end, is that it starts a new beginning.
For we live to hear the sound of god’s applause.

(Space) Dust settling

How do we coordinate?
I found you there, where the wind meets the wild.
The violent storm.
I wished for you twenty lifetimes ago.
When my feelings were cooling like the earth’s crust.
What is it that we have now? What holds us together like emotions?
I wear the land upon me like your needs; vibrant and synchronised.
Emotional oceans of respect and calm.
Pulling me down in the wave crest of passion.
Are we there? Where we plotted. Ejected into space.
Coordinated around universal clocks that tick and hum.
Loving you on the latitudes of complexity. Tick.
The longitudes of simplicity. Tock.
Dripping like stars.
Maybe this state of now, is what happens after the war.