In The Sense That Perhaps There Is Something So Deeply Ingrained Within Me That Continues To Seep Into How I Live My Life - Blog Posts

There's a sigh of reverie for each thought of her in mind. A silent form of worship, and a quiet prayer, all dedicated to her. This is what love is, to me, a lasting effect of a religion ingrained in the depths of my heart—one I have kept buried for so long I had accepted a life that carried on without such a concept—until, of course, you. Pounding at my doors, stringing with you the kind of consequence that seems good enough even at the face of eternal damnation.

I am no saint, however. In fact, I will never be one, but this remains good.

My scriptures tell me loving you is a sin, but I will have no qualms spending an entire lifetime to repent for each kiss, each hold, each embrace; covering ground and crusading over the maps of our skins. All this that I've done, I will continue to be doing, if only to serve my way of believing in a god that shows itself in the briefest of moments. He is there as I look into your eyes, she bestows upon me her blessing when our breaths meld together, it graciously leaves space for prayer when the gasping reach their peak, at the parting of limbs, within containing water — perhaps that is why Moses’ story continue to be passed onto generation after generation.

This was not meant to be tucked in the deepest corner of an abysmal closet.

I believe it now, have witnessed it myself, albeit not in its truest form. This is the closest I will ever get to Heaven, and I willingly resign to such fate. Even angels pale in comparison to your existence; divine, yet finite; immaculate, yet painfully human.

How can it possibly get any better than that?