union

Beauty is dad kissing mom's hand when it cramps.Beauty is seeing a Persian woman dance.Ugly is not the absence of beauty.Uglyis the inability to identify it.The inability to be surprised by it.It is the persistent reluctance to be made a child by it.Beauty is simplythe manifestation oflove.

Does God knowthe number of kissesbefore we fall in love?Yesterday, I was nobodyand I believed myself important.Today,I feel my worth in you.You, with your emerald eyes and ebony hair,even your heartbeat is beautiful.You, who is my greatest joy,all other concerns vanish in your presence.You swallow timeand consume space,inspiring all my passionwith a single embrace.I love your existence.

How is it that there was never youuntil there wasand then all was you?

I can sense your love,why leave me in darkness?Beguile me for your amusement,stealing my soul without kisses. You are the sun and I, the moon. Your beauty is reflected in my eyes.When we are apart, I am extinguishedin the blackness of these skies.

What is this lovethat makes me see beauty,and makes every beautiful thing bring you back to me?What is this lovethat makes me declare 'I love you'even though I uttered itonly a moment ago?What is this love that keeps growing even when my chest is soreand it hurts to love you any more?Tell me:How am I to find what this love iswhen it was the one to find you, me, this verse, and this universe?

I have no use for these other loves.Seal them shut in jarsand place them in the pantry. A reserve of love.Thank them for their love.They are so kind.Perhaps store them in the fridgeFor others to take.They say love is a panacea. I know it is not.Flakes of snow,no two are alike.When I am down on my knees, hopeless and angry,for the world no longer makes sense,I won't look in the pantry or fridge.It is your hand pressing on my shoulderthat makes me whole,makes me forget.What trouble? What world?

Before you, nothing.Now you, and everything

Let us remember to always rediscover one anotherbecause we are forever changing.

Let us go where skins are rainbowsEnhanced by every hue.Where genders are cloudsWeightless and formless through.Let us go where creeds are starsIlluminating our view.Where men and women are oneAnd the in-between are true.Let us go where I am free to loveFor I cannot unlove you.

If I owned Texas and Hell, I would rent out Texas and live in Hell

That old unionism was, however, very different from the kind we live with now. We do not live with an ideal, sometimes on the defensive, of union. We live with the overriding, overwhelming fact, a fact so technologically, economically, and politically validated that we usually forget to ask how fully this fact represents a true community, the spiritually significant communion which the old romantic unionism had envisaged.

Take me when I'm wild.Take me when I'm free.Take me for meand I will take you as you want to be.

If you wait until you find something to speak up for, something that you__e passionate about that concerns you and attacks your own beliefs, then eventually, when the day finally arrives, you might also find that you have forgotten how to speak.

What happens when I love, you ask, does the world start making sense? No, my dear, it does not. But it won__ matter to you then.

Inequality and poverty, unhealth and no wealth are hand in hand. And if we are all born equal that should be true in all lands. We cannot divide the world between poor and rich countries. It's like saying the ones are good, the others are junkies. That can only increase more prejudice, miseries and sorrow. Turning the wheel today it will lead to a better tomorrow.

The Northern onslaught upon slavery was no more than a piece ofspecious humbug designed to conceal it's desire for economic control ofthe Southern states.

Let my silence grow with noise as pregnant mothers grow with life. Let my silence permeate these walls as sunlight permeates a home. Let the silence rise from unwatered graves and craters left by bombs. Let the silence rise from empty bellies and surge from broken hearts. The silence of the hidden and forgotten. The silence of the abused and tortured. The silence of the persecuted and imprisoned. The silence of the hanged and massacred. Loud as all the sounds can be, let my silence be loud so the hungry may eat my words and the poor may wear my words. Loud as all the sounds can be, let my silence be loud so I may resurrect the dead and give voice to the oppressed. My silence speaks.

Share yourself with me. I will never judge you. I am here and I will stay here only to love you.