| pink jade/acolyte of the flesh I am frightened of the feelings that you conjure with a thought. Random bits of happiness are in your dreamweb, caught. I close my eyes and I can hear your soft breath and your voice, yet there are those who'd curse my heart (as if it gives me choice). I do not know where you are set and where this path may lead, but I am an eager acolyte on pilgrimage to a need. I think of you and dream of you and feel, of you, such fire, that it is hard (in many ways) to channel this desire. If I am but to think of you at distances remote, I will accept, in intellect, but leave for fate, this note. If what we think and ponder is sin's own synonym, then I am well and past the line indulging flesh's whim. copyright William F. DeVault (wfdv). for Jade. used by permission |
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