"For Jeanne Guyon....great mystic"

“Hope scans the galaxy;
mirrored blinded Light.
Lying to a throat that’s parched,
dreams, familiar curse.
Novel, writer’s travesty;
heroine loses fight.
Sword piercing weakened heart;
summons vulture thirst.
Insane from the blessing;
choking on Your silence;
still, I am kneeling.
in Your favorite pose.
Memories transgressing,
upon Your theme of violence,
Breaking in and stealing,
the thorn becomes the Rose.
Driven mad by guessing,
what’s behind the mask,
Questions are disruptive,
to godly imagery.
But,as we move, undressing;
I have learned, at last,
The thorns are more seductive,
than a rose could hope to be