But, if you look hard enough, everyone,
in this life, has some imperfection,
some impediment, that, under the gun,
would ruin our chances at creation,
and the love that goes with it, hand in hand.
So, to live in this world, and dream, too,
of what shall come in the next, I must stand
for the soul, the beauty within, that, in lieu
of death, shall manifest, in full, outwardly.
The soul, when it’s completely forgiven,
is its own promise, and, as such, will be
good enough, in this life, to be shriven,
all imperfection erased, turning me on.
But, I ask, how do I get there, before
love has arrived, and this loving would dawn
on me, with all its doubt, and yester-yore?
I must learn to trust, and see the best in
people, focusing on what they have, to
share, not what they don’t, what they will win
over, in heaven, eventually.
I take this naked body, then, and make
the most of it, within reason, looking
my best, as close as I can get, for His sake,
to what I will be, in heaven. The King
loves me, and I love Him, creator of
my earthly love, and the faith, and trust,
that gets me there, satisfied, and in love.
So I take steps, here, to do that, as I must,
taking the edge off what, otherwise,
would be too much, all at once, to accept,
no matter who you are. If He denies
me, after that, then I must affect
myself with kindness, and respect, willing
myself forward, to someone I once knew,
in the back of my mind, before the sting
of reality is given free reign,
and takes its crippling shape—and then, maybe,
just maybe, it won’t, and I’ll find a mate,
someone to share my bed, and be, for me,
what He would relate, if I were, to date,
an angel. So I take a leap of faith,
getting off, from a distance, safe and sound,
like a nobody, a forsaken wraith,
until His promise leads me above ground,
also, then, safe and sound. Goodly women,
that put themselves out there, calling me
back from the abyss, would, now and again,
allow for perfection, making me free.