The Divine Appointment

Shifting in spiritual terrain, walking the corridors of god, bearing goodness, granting smiles. The exchanging of light and reason. Powerless, I project my breath toward the peaks. Silently, I cry: I nuzzle my head into the moonlight with crippling hesitation. Dreaming upon November stars, I plea for flight. I wish for warmth. I long for this passion to retain shape. To take place. To find grace.