aesthetic // (poetry)

divine;

let my divinity be my testimony
my solemn sacrament a compliment to my character
my visage expressionless in its defiance.
i am made to find divinity in monotheism, in heaven and prayer, in the trinity.
but i find no divinity among saints, nor in any holy edifice.
no, i find divinity in the wind and the rain, in knowledge and the vastness of our universe, in the curvature of the human anatomy, in friendship, in self-confidence, in how i love and how i receive love, in stillness, in warmth, in liberation
in earthly and tangible things.
in loved ones.
in myself.
is my testimony false in its conviction?
some would that i think so.
nevertheless, my spirit soars in its defiance, my chin up high, my conviction on display for the world to arbitrate.
adjudicate my sins, world.
damn me if you must.
but you will not take from me my divinity,
or Gaea's sacrament, for she remains sanctified.
remove your masks of piousness, and examine for yourself the holiness of the world around you.
in the oceans, in the forests, in the dimples on your lovers back.
and care not for the gender of your lover, for we are to love unconditionally in our consecration.
and consecrate that very love, for the act of love is divine and just, and contributes to Mother Earth's pulchritude.
live accordingly with celestial bliss
and find for yourself the sacrament of Gaea,
for she is waiting to encompass you in her holy embrace.
arms outstretched, a smile etched on her countenance
as a loving mother embraces her child,
as a father embraces his son,
as lover embraces lover,
a love untouched by the hands of time,
patience written into her nature.
for she waits for all her children to come home to her,
to cherish the beauty she has created,
to treat one another as she has intended.
but human beings are selfish creatures,
wanting what we cannot have,
taking what we cannot get,
raping our earth until she is bare and broken.
for what love has mankind of its maker?
of its home, of its loving mother?
find for yourself
the beauty hidden in everything.
for until we do,
our mother will weep for her children,
as they kill one another in the name of war and religion, of hate and of love, of spite and of greed.
we must break the chain.
we must share our testimonies,
and we must uphold her sacrament,
for if we do not,
the consequences are immeasurable.
and let us seek it within ourselves,
for we are divine beings,
filled with love and light,
a compliment to our maker,
a smile etched on her face as she gazes upon her children, the children she nurtures, the children who have the power to do so much good.
so let us do good.
let us infill her vision.
she is all we have.