[I saw two lovers walking hand in hand.
She sparkled under her purple kitten t-shirt and blue beanie.
His sentiments were in the swinging of his arms.
The bougainvillea similarly made the turquoise post radiate
with extra dimension.]
Devotion is magic.
Love becomes apparent.
Beauty infectious.
It is not fear arising
but some other experience so sacred,
so vulnerable,
so unfamiliar.
An edge, a threshold
for this heart, this head.
An allowance, a softening
of receiving wild medicine
of the Gods.
Attempts to make real what
lacks description.
Perhaps the nectar’s flavor
is best kept a secret
anyways.