The
velvet darkness of your Presence
envelopes my human frame.
Just like reflections of lampposts' halo
in the misering rain.
I'm
not alone, even death
could not steal you away.
You permeate my very being.
Such passion, Life sustained.
Not
just for one moment, but forever,
ever, ever into eternity.
Your touch goes deep inside my marrow,
where it breathes out the pain,
kisses away and sets me free.
Free
to live outside the matrix,
this defensive box of stage jokes.
Free to say No to games,
farces and parodies.
Fly
with the wind,
Or shelter in the underground.
Free to be me, be true to self.
Free to explore the ever-fascinating Mystery….
Yet,
it's okay if others choose the matrix,
preferring to play the parody.
Choosing pretence, box
of denial, defence and irony.
Or did the box of death choose them……?