Personal Deity

Why must you have me crawl from the nooks and crannies of stone crevices into the hot sun? I am hesitant, but soon give it. I have never felt this warmth. I bask in it. It is wonderful, I feel your perfection on me, caressing me whispering sweet nothings into my oblivious ear. Your warm breath is a summer breeze tickling cattails moving trees, encouraging. And like a current, I follow. Perfection. Sometimes it feels as though skies spin and twirl above me. I am nothing. A branch. Bending and snapping with coming persuasive breezes. The way of life, that’s just how it goes. C’est l’amour. N’est pas etonnant.