and on the seventh day..

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Reputation is what men and women think of us; character is what God and angels know of us.” —Thomas Paine

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Occupy the Constitution: Get Money Out of Politics!

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i refuse to be mortal; knowing too well the feel of wind, of water, of tree bark, stone, and gravel, knowing they will go on after i have embraced them; a mortal is destined to love and leave. instead let me be moon and love how she does her oceans, always tugging at the tips of tides like sheets to lay over her cold dry naked body, i want to love my woman how clouds love a mountain, enveloping her shoulders, her neck, but always allowing her head to pierce through, free, so she may tilt her head and bless the heavens with her smile, the gods reach their hands down from beyond the zenith to chip, chisel and sculpt her teeth into stars and hang them like ornaments on the bareness of night, slicing through the cosmos like truth into heart, we know the wound is where the light enters, i hold my lady how a cave keeps an echo; deep inside, i refuse to be mortal because i want to love unbound, so let me die as a man, and become mineral, and let me not seek out love like a mere mortal, but to seek within and destroy the stone walls i’ve built against it, let me die on the cross

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and, she, and she, just sat there, unflinching, flames coating her body, slowly withering and shriveling up, her skull blackening and charring, the air was rot with the smell of her burning flesh…i could taste it…i could hear the angels crying behind me, distraught, but knowing the fire was just…everyone, stiff, sobbing, standing about…i was too shocked to cry…i was too scared, i, i…i didn’t even know if what i was seeing was real…why would she do this?…as she burned she never moved a muscle, never uttered a sound, she just sat there, a smoking corpse

and, she, and she rose 3 days later, seated on a white lotus, wreaking of milk and honey, holding a palmleaf scroll of hymns, she took me into her house, where we played hide and seek…the house with its hallways that never stop and rooms that never meet an angle, i called out to her “O priestess, this house is too big! how am i to find my way? how am i to find you? i do not understand. this house is too big!”, and her voice called back, “well, why must it be, my love? why not, instead of all of that, why can’t you just find a little room here with me, with a bed, sheets, and pillows, and that’s all this house is. That is all it really is.”

and she, and she had walked 24,900 miles to bring me here…as we lie next to each other, my legs searching for the hollow of hers, her hand curled in mine, my navel resting in the bowl of her lower back, the musk of sweat between her breasts resting on the hairs in my nostrils, we show the stars what it is to be a crescent moon…she told me stories of her journey here, she told me of the stinging burning feeling of egyptian sands on her feet, the things she saw in Gamorrah, those nights she sat with her past…she told me that one night she reached in her chest and took out her heart, bruised and cut by truth many times, but an open heart was not a fatal wound…she handed it to ma’at and hung herself on the crux stars, while singing samadhi to the cosmos…that night a lotus grew from her navel, puckered its petals, and blew a kiss that became wind on the back of a sea, waves rose like goosebumps, and parted for moses and his people…that night i moved a mountain without flexing a bicep…that night the walls of Jericho crumbled…that night Asmaa Mahfouz went down to Tahrir square and stood there…that night Horus took a spear and slayed Set…that night my mouth opened to make known the mystery of the gospel…and she said i love you too

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yourpriestess:

mo.nog.a.my

and, she, and she, just sat there, unflinching, flames coating her body, slowly withering and shriveling up, her skull blackening and charring, the air was rot with the smell of her burning flesh…i could taste it…i could hear the angels crying behind me, distraught, but knowing the fire was just…everyone, stiff, sobbing, standing about…i was too shocked to cry…i was too scared, i, i…i didn’t even know if what i was seeing was real…why would she do this?…as she burned she never moved a muscle, never uttered a sound, she just sat there, a smoking corpseand, she, and she rose 3 days later, seated on a white lotus, wreaking of milk and honey, holding a palmleaf scroll of hymns, she took me into her house, where we played hide and seek…the house with its hallways that never stop and rooms that never meet an angle, i called out to her “O priestess, this house is too big! how am i to find my way? how am i to find you? i do not understand. this house is too big!”, and her voice called back, “well, why must it be, my love? why not, instead of all of that, why can’t you just find a little room here with me, with a bed, sheets, and pillows, and that’s all this house is. That is all it really is.”and she, and she had walked 24,900 miles to bring me here…as we lie next to each other, my legs searching for the hollow of hers, her hand curled in mine, my navel resting in the bowl of her lower back, the musk of sweat between her breasts resting on the hairs in my nostrils, we show the stars what it is to be a crescent moon…she told me stories of her journey here, she told me of the stinging burning feeling of egyptian sands on her feet, the things she saw in Gamorrah, those nights she sat with her past…she told me that one night she reached in her chest and took out her heart, bruised and cut by truth many times, but an open heart was not a fatal wound…she handed it to ma’at and hung herself on the crux stars, while singing samadhi to the cosmos…that night a lotus grew from her navel, puckered its petals, and blew a kiss that became wind on the back of a sea, waves rose like goosebumps, and parted for moses and his people…that night i moved a mountain without flexing a bicep…that night the walls of Jericho crumbled…that night Asmaa Mahfouz went down to Tahrir square and stood there…that night Horus took a spear and slayed Set…that night my mouth opened to make known the mystery of the gospel…that night we made love and We slept good

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