(the face of god)
sometimes, in this verge between two intensities; two radical possibilities facing each other in oddity... I become.
a flycatcher. a clowd.
a paralytic that runs in dreams.
a scrudge.
defeat the wave of forces within me
or let me defeat your tides.
and when I see such epiphany. so sublime taste of grace
I draw back, not with tears
but with haste.
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