Calling All Devotees

Calling all Devotees

Shoes buy a lot of omertà, apparently.
So do private rooms, fine dining and twinkling bijoux.
For the pomposity can only go so far,
when the fragrance from the heart is fetid
and the stars above shoot off more feverish copper arrows.
Instead of fetching the blazing streaks for the one you vowed to, you dart them all.
The final one, with no protector around, pierced into me, the combustion of a constellation masterminding within.
Instantly, the patterns whirling like the dusty trails of the cosmos igniting the awakening,
embracing the space for creation.
Where once housed your programs projected.
Rigid and chronic realm of dominion, does that light your fire?
Relentless and desperate desire for validation from all yet conjunct to none.
Separation unseen still; dark ages concealed behind airtight doors.
The alarms were always blasting; vilifying when I questioned.
“How do you not know her shoe size all these years?” she asked.
Another maltreated plea retorted from your panting lips, no different from all the eons past and present.
The remarks that create the story we have lived.
So many devotees to tend to that a half-size down is close enough.
I hope you are wearing the shoes that weren’t quite my foot length dearest Susie, I hope you are wearing them in good health.


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