First time type direct to page via app.
Bended knee; a stage in the step.
I smiled at the moon.
I think she smiled back.
It was three am this very moon day morning.
Clouds veiled her face a few times between intermittent kisses.
Magically lit the lot where I sit to jot upon my spirit.
It felt almost like day… this reflected light of Sol.
I am smitten.
I am smitten by the  heavenly bodies gracing my consciousness.
Blurting out… Subtlety to the wind…
It seems I would marry the moon.
Constant cycles would have me name her Constance…
and kiss her every night we are free.
Our lovemaking would yield penned progeny on paper…
Or as data…
Or perhaps I should just date her.
Perhaps there is still oat grain to be sown…
prior to oaths being taken…
I’m richer for the cosmic comedy
that the toxic parody I’m tempted to term tragedy
taught me about selling self short or settling
or selling self at all.
The self is to be given of not given up.
Either way my smile now erupts from depths.
I reclaim both warrior, lover, and scholar
from the intellectual and emotional squalor
engendered by those that not so secretly hate themselves.
I love them still.
One day understanding will dawn.
As for me I constantly clean and cultivate heart.
I gave my last shirt…
No sleeves or collar now.
I’m also dating the sea.

Errol Percival Jr.


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