this is also GodS

I’ve been in love for weeks, perhaps months, definitely years. 

And I don’t tell them that I love them. 

You’re right, 

I should just tell them. 

I am scared that my love will break things. 

Love is so much, and everything

impossible. 

Where does that bushelled love go? 

Do GodS hear my love, sinning? 

When GodS are all and we are GodS’ love being,

what happens to GodS when we don’t tell love?

Isn’t that the extinction of Tinkerbell? 

Isn't that where atheism begins

the fear of expressing love here so vast -

stretched across eternity,

as honest as breath and light -

aghast, who could be so cruel to blind what understands?

Better to modestly deny the vast plane, better to patiently observe the shallow peace, better to stand some feet and bend some knees and raise rough voice in folksy hallelujah

than to say

I love you

with GodS voice

and risk a whole new story

breaking open,

healing everything

impossible. 

A whole new story,

written in sweat and emulsion

on altars and tombstones.

A whole new story

becoming known,

kneeling beside open chests,

soberly exchanging locks,

curling towards life how that fern in Spring knows to

change the name and nature of GodS

as only truth can do. 

You’re right, 

I should just tell them. 

And I am scared.

And this is also GodS.