Sinful Shepherd

It makes a difference,
maybe it is myself but

the words are made of

roses,

are they made of ashes (rather)?

that, a blunt stab into Solomon's darkness

being raw the flesh and cold the river.

I let him.

I let him wear me out

as a shepherd with the body and the oil

and the face, holy.

Which is the sky that rains?

I am in denial through the doom

it is "we" that I want.

Two neglected sons,

up in the mount.

I have bathed in the river,

seven times eleven times and I'm sinful and I'm wading.

And I love you again,

I love you immensely past ancient book(s)

past silver skies

past the green pastures of soulful RIGHTEOUSNESS
in

FI

GU

RA

TI

VE

love,

spoken love.

Forever I dwell inside of you,

on Minerva's Garden my cup overflows

A solemn shadown,

an absurd shadow,

an open branch.

I do not know who I am.

I kiss your memory through fifty seven centuries,

careful arms, again wading.

Ambigous shepherd I will become.