By Jason C. Motsch
Beating on the ground in a flowing rhythm,
The heart sends messenger birds from
It's fingertips into the red skies above.
Sacred songs of holy ritual expand
Into cosmic connections, distill into
Frequencies dancing from spirit radios.
Their wings flap furiously into reality,
Birdsong filling the air from my soul
to His waiting hands, ready to recieve.
My heart gladly leaves its dusty home
and beats from suggestion into exclamation,
Becoming one with my Love at last.
We soar the bandwidth eternal,
Coming in at a rate perceptible only
to our conversing ears.
I waited long.
I was rewarded.
I am free in love.