On the Glory of Feeling

Image Copyright Stevie N. Berberick

It's a secret 
Don't tell

How dare I be so bold as to be so vulnerable as to admit that when I love it gets in my bones so deeply it's like molten marrow made of a hungry burn eating its way inside from so far without 

You existed there
You and he and she and them
Whom I have loved with every ounce of my erotic eccentricities 

Born of calcium deposits found on stars flying through dimensions
Wild, wild laughing 
My voice comes through the walls
Thick and full and sticky like syrup seeping slowly from between the crevices in your form

I can love that deeply, so quickly, so full

I am at the brim
And time has no bearing here.
Time has no space to whisper to me of rationality,
Because time is both a blink and an eternity when you're made of Everything
Simultaneously we are nothing at all

Because we can't place a name
to that which is composed of - while having the power to obliterate - Everything

Like a whisper on a brutal wind that shakes seeds from the poppies to spread 
A violent breeze roaring 

While you sit on a fleece blanket in graveyards of the glorious dead who they re-enact to celebrate

And you feel the weight of a brilliant but stunted mind who still believes that
- despite them being the Everything -
They are nothing…
Slowly crumbling to the lowest reaches of the earth forgotten and alone because they are unseen

Except they are the Everything 

And their mighty love is resting on your lap and worlds fall away

Excising even the pesky demons of war that surround the corners of your peripheral

Their mighty head is resting on you and you think

"God knows I’m good,"
except you never really believed in this monolithic authority
​
But it feels like a strange and unknowable divine intervention that voice out loud cannot create

To be this so furiously in love with Everything in this blink of a stretch of an eternity 

And somewhere in the folds between what we are told to be and what exists so raw like sugar cane in our soul
We know….