NEPTUNE BURNS

God of Light

in church, back when I was forced to go, I used to spend all my time looking at the stained glass windows. they bled green red yellow iridescent kaleidoscopic hues on the worshippers that surrounded me. and maybe this is what is meant by being holy.

it is this space when we come together, you and I, and we exist in a plane in time when anything is possible. where heartache is reminiscent of colors blending and shedding fractured light off praying elders with rosary beads hanging off frayed rope. it is this moment when you don't understand what is there in a sky to pray for but can feel the magic hanging in the air as every heart echoes a faith of possibility that sings inside of bone marrow.

being holy, it seems, is sitting in a pew with wide eyed curiosity wondering why no one sees the way the light is a voice of impenetrable hope. i wonder if because i did not notice the sermons I did not understand love.

it seems i have spent more time watching ripples of light through windows shape my world than try to help shift the shapes of what is around me. perhaps if I knew why people prayed I would not be worshipping heartbreak.
if I were not a sinner with no desire for retribution - could our love have been holy?

tillmore in celebration of addie being addie