Divine

Tell me what I pine for stranger

What is Divine?

The sweet nectar of early spring blossoms

The hymn and verse of fluttering blue jays and dancing willows

Maybe, just maybe, the mollifying melody of slow churning rivers

 

Tell me dear stranger

Maybe the divine is not one of nature

Maybe it is the divine of the heart

 

So say divine is one of human’s purest natures.

For we are said to be the most complicated of creatures

The sweetest kiss of one’s lover upon one’s own soft lips

The hammering and humming of a tempted heart

The arresting breaths of long sighs

with the wonder bore into each lover’s eyes.

So say maybe this is to be divine.  

 

Tell me dear stranger

Tell me what I pine for

What is divine if it not us human’s purest of natures

Even if we are the most complicated of creatures

Or that of the purest of nature

Maybe it is the divine of our dreams not our hearts

Who knows?

 

 

So say stranger, tell me what I pine for

Tell me, what is true divine.

 

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