I have denounced the mechanics
of Catholicism far too often,
to claim an empathy
for divine creation.
Miracles for me are foreign
day dreams, but internally
I held the naked heavens
without indication of religion.
It was in the birth of galaxies
that lovers were conceived,
though the stars scattered to dust,
and we fell to earth as halves.
This alchemy unites us:
in forlorn distance,
but singular in heart
My prayers are not born of masses,
They are all dedications to you,
my angel loved sexually and purely.
Your temple is where I orbit.
Siamese lovers are we,
rediscovering the lost wonders
until we share the same skin.
Every atom of you radiates
this purgatory, you are my everything.
And soon will be for an eternity.
In this life wait for me, I will be with you shortly.
In the morning I am a recluse,lost in memory,ideal situations and convulsions... They built pop mart for Bono so he could gaze out across the bay and sing about mountains maybe" Whipping boy
[This message has been edited by brian madden (edited 12-30-2000).]