Nearly Not Yet Wed

 

Nearly wed. I was committed to anchor the vows that were borne in my heart, written from love , with words found floating within my mind; words not their natural state, words for vows- Always mindful of the pure, sacred, source- my beating blood filled loving heart the very source of pure mystical waters that bubble forth from deep within the inner most part of the womb nestled deep within Heart- that of our Mother the planet; and the same ebb and flow of heartfelt light, that is Love that feeds into and births out of the Cosmos and the worlds all connected the inner, the fractured,the single point with and without meaning and time and place and memory the source that creates and can only exist from having created in love from love with love for love out of love The SOURCE OF LOVE THAT HAS TOUCHED ALL OF EXISTENCE, sustained forever, completely, unconditionally and all for not a single cost -to everything, everywhere in all times and places because Sacred Love when met with sacred love naturally self propagates, love begets love and so the source, the creator and keeper of this reality should never diminish and always becoming and giving love infinitely....from this cauldron of Love the Single Story of the Creation of this World... from this nectar, this stock of hearty Love soup...my own birth from Love was the same Love that filled my being so full of Love that the vows came, emotion into thoughts into words that simply said, from this Love we two will give and share forever without end and from this Love will more Love be made....the vows that at this precise moment had taken the form of black printed text, a SCRIPT, meant to be committed to memory, spoken upon a stage, within this wedding day, the peak of the one act play. Ceremonious it surely was, lines spoken upon set cues, committed to memory in truth, just lines amongst affects in a gruesome wedding day progression from rehearsal pre-post nuptual ritual rites of so much nothing and too mush trite..to bridal prep, party,feasts and delights, all picture perfect even the purple sunset precise; groomsmen back slapping, late into the night, ducking for cover behind this tree or car,belligerent and drunken short whiskey breaths bid farewells with each guests' departure leaves a thin veil of sanctity; the illusion now vague bits of fog hanging low in the black sky and off with a swift breeze and vanishing...wedding the day into night, rites into vaudeville. Vows stank in me like burnt books and the ashes following the witches' trial. Grateful for the depths of drunkenness, the unexplained absence could not be contrived into lies and deceitful stories, not before the waves of deep snores left my groom out cold and my wedding night untarnished by careless attempts at consummation.

Done