After this humble hermit
and The Rose
went temporarily astray..
he blindly roamed
The Earth, indeed,
for many days.
Except The Earth
alludes to more than merely
our terrestrial sphere.
She is a gentle woman
and a friend of mine
whose presence I still hold
quite near and dear.

After The Sun,
before The Ocean
and The Rose..
is when this hermit
blindly stumbled on
The Earth.
For, in the end
of the beginning,
there was nothing..
but The Word.

The Earth was not
The One who uttered it..
She was The One
who listened
and who heard..
The ringing bells
of deepest truth.
This hermit didn’t learn
her proper name
until much later,
which is why she is..
The Fourth Muse.

This hermit
and The Earth
developed
a tradition
and a ritual..
of shared
partaking
in both heavenly
and earthly
bread.

As I was rocking
back and forth
on Ocean’s waves,
and wishing I was dead..
she offered steadying
compassion to me..
which felt nearly
quite as firm
as standing
upon land.

She always saw
the truthful beauty
in my poems..
and I saw the beauty
of her deepest truth as well.
About a carpenter
who was The Son of God
and died for our salvation..
so that we may find
forgiveness for our sins,
instead of burning
for eternity in hell.

I wished to offer her
a love she never had..
indeed, I loved her dearly
as a woman, yes..
I loved her oh.. so.. bad.
The sort of love
that suddenly awakens
your belief in God.
And yet,
when I sought counsel
with Almighty,
He revealed to me..
my woman.. she is not.

And yet, despite it,
I don’t love her
any less.
I love her purely now..
for, by her presence
I, indeed, was blessed.
It just so happens that..
we didn’t find ourselves
within the proper timeline.
The Flesh of her Flesh
is still out there,
I have utmost faith in that..
but it’s no Flesh of mine.